


KotOR: Sweet Sixteen

by DarthBubbles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars - Old Republic Era, Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coming of Age, Drama, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Comedy, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthBubbles/pseuds/DarthBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4000 years before the destruction of the Death Star, a young soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic takes the fate of the galaxy into his own hands as he races against time to save the Republic from the wanton grasp of a ruthless Sith Lord.</p><p>As he's met with the help of a wisecracking mercenary, a fatherly Republic pilot, a high-and-mighty Jedi "princess", a soft-hearted wookiee, a pair of charismatic droids, an ex-Sith, a cranky old man, and a beautiful young twi'lek, Seth Avery just might go from unremarkable Republic private to savior of the galaxy. (Mission/OC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Havoc on the Spire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this is the section where I get to tell you what you're about to read. My name's Seth, and... well, I guess you're reading the story of my sixteenth year, by far the craziest year of my life. DarthBubbles let me take on the responsibility of chapter summaries in this fic, so I guess I'll just summarize the beginning of it all.
> 
> In this chapter, life as I know it explodes around me. Literally.

The bunks of the _Endar Spire_ weren't comfortable by any standard. Quite truthfully, they were comparable to rocks, and the crew of the massive warship spent many sleepless nights rolling around in search of a comfortable position atop them.

The port-stern dormitories were probably the worst. To add to the discomfort, the rooms were backed up directly next to the _Spire's_ engines, and the idea of "peace and quiet" was easily drowned out by the hum of the vast machines powering the vessel.

Those port dormitories were reserved for the newer recruits, fresh out of the academies, and for this mission, they'd picked up a lot of them. "Fresh meat," or "Noobs," as they were referred to by the more seasoned Republic soldiers. "Noobs" coming from the younger officers who had been in the recruits' shoes merely months earlier.

Of the several academy-fresh soldiers who had taken up residence in the cramped port dorms, only one seemed to be able to get a decent rest on those rock-hard metal planks that were passed as bunks. It was a talent, one he proudly and jokingly reminded his peers of as they wiped groggy eyes and shuffled about every morning. Seth Avery was, as he claimed, an "adept" at sleeping, though he honestly believed he was average in every sense of the word. The new recruits aboard the _Endar Spire_ ranged in age from as early as fourteen to the early twenties; drafting tended to strip most of the galaxy's population of their youth during times of war, and this was no different. Seth sat comfortably in the middle of that age range at sixteen, perfectly content with the way his life had turned out. An orphan raised by the streets of Coruscant, without a cent to his name, he had to believe that volunteering for the military was one of his smarter decisions in life. Free food, free beds, friends at his side- they all beat what he'd grown up with.

As much a deep dreamer as he was a deep sleeper, Seth had been experiencing one of those rather odd, memory-like dreams on the morning of the day his life was turned upside down. Two shadowy figures argued, their tones rising in decibel until they were practically shouting at them. He couldn't see faces. He never could. And in this dream he shrank back against a figure barely bigger than he was and he felt very small indeed. He could almost feel rather than see a fair-skinned hand grasp his pudgy, smaller one, and Seth the sixteen year old felt as if he were seeing through the eyes of Seth the three year old. And a little girl's voice hushed him and told him it was going to be fine, and that they'd stop. He turned to look at her, but she was hidden by the shadows just as the others were.

And then her voice came again, but it was much deeper. Almost teenage-boy-deep, it seemed. And she was telling him to wake up. Three-year-old Seth furrowed his eyebrows. He was awake, wasn't he?

And now she was hitting him hard in the ribcage. So much for her soothing words. Three-year-old Seth mumbled a few obscenities that no three-year-old had any business mumbling, and through blurred vision saw the girl transform into a teenage boy right before his eyes. He rubbed at his pupils, closed his eyelids, and opened them again, and the surroundings of his dream were gone. He looked down at his body and saw not the pudgy form of a three-year-old, but the toned, lean muscles of a sixteen year old. Seth glanced up again groggily at the "girl," who was actually another of the recruits, dressed in Republic oranges and golds and shaking him awake violently.

Seth groaned and licked dry lips. "Iggy?" he mumbled.

"No, Bendak Starkiller," the taller, lanky boy said with a roll of his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Who else would it be, _di'kut_?" The Mandalorian slang wouldn't have been tolerated by the older soldiers, but none of the recruits were old enough to remember the Mando Wars, so Seth took the insult lightly.

"Sleeping in again, Avery?" Draven Melik laughed, grinning at the other teen.

Seth stifled a yawn and sat up, popping several joints in his back as he went. "What time is it?"

"Suffice it to say you slept in. Get dressed and meet Dannit down at the bridge." Iggy shrugged, holstered a pistol, and left for the bridge.

"Crap," Seth muttered, realizing he was alone in the dormitory. He shuffled over to the bathroom as quickly as he could, splashing ice cold water against his lips and face to fully wake himself. Using the leftover water on his hands, he styled his hair into a near perfect fauxhawk before hurrying to the bridge. It wasn't a far venture from the dormitories. A few twists and turns, left, then right, then left again, and he was at the _Endar_ _Spire's_ command center. The other recruits were lined up in classic military fashion, their backs straight, their hands crisply saluting the officer in front of them. Officer Dannit to be exact. Seth hadn't exactly taken a liking to Dannit, and the officer seemed to mutualize that feeling. "You're late, Avery!" he barked even as Seth tried to subtly slip into formation with the others.

"Sorry, sir," Seth said confidently, standing straight and tall as he'd learned at the academy.

Dannit turned to the rest of the recruits, pacing back and forth in front of them as he prepared his lecture. "Tardiness is one thing that will not be tolerated by the Republic. If you are late on the battlefield, there's a good chance you'll get yourself killed. There's a good chance you could get your company killed. There's a good chance that you could be the one person who sets the Sith on the brink of victory. In this war, there is no room for errors such as tardiness. Avery here was late to his promotion to private, and therefore, he will _not_ be promoted with the rest of you!" Seth felt his stomach drop. Becoming private was like being officially initiated into the Republic fleet. It was all he had to live for. And it had just slipped out of his fingertips, just like that, because he'd slept in? He could feel their eyes on him. Some out of pity, some out of some sort of smug superiorism. Seth wanted to speak up. To fend for himself. But speaking out of line would only demoralize him further in the Officer's eyes.

"Hey, now, Dannit," a gravelly, gentle voice called from beyond the recruits. Seth turned to see the broad, proud form of Captain Carth Onasi overlooking the predicament, his hands clasped behind his back and his stubbled chin raised in superiority. He glanced down at Seth with chocolate eyes and let his lips quirk into an amused smile. "I don't think minor breaks in protocol warrant a refusal of a position within our fleet, does it?"

Dannit stood stick straight, rigid in his salute. "Sir, you don't _understand_ what it's like to have this boy under your command, with all due respect. He's brash, arrogant, cocky in every sense of the word-"

"And probably one of the best damn recruits we grabbed from the Academy," Carth finished, a bit more stern than he had been before. "That's right, I read their files. All forty of them. And this kid's marks are off the charts." Seth grinned, and Onasi snapped his gaze from the Officer to the younger boy. "Don't get cocky, you still lack just about everything in the field of experience."

Instantly he let the smile drop from his face. "Yes, sir."

"However, this kid gets his promotion. Captain's orders."

Dannit's jaw dropped. "Sir, you really can't be serious about-"

"He was _handpicked_ for this mission from _hundreds_ of recruits by _Commander_ _Shan_ herself," Onasi hissed, jabbing a finger into Dannit's chest with every enunciated word. Seth felt the eyes of his pupils on him again, this time in awe. His own heart even fluttered a bit at this bit of news. He had already known he was one of the best recruits the academy had sent to the Spire. He'd already known that he was regarded by his instructors as, in the words of Drill Sergeant Walters, "one of the best damn soldiers ever to be trained for the Republic." But to be handpicked by one of the Republic's most revered and well-known Jedi, whether or not she was but a Padawan, rocked his perception of himself and his role in the fleet. And while his ego may have grown a bit from the revelation, it came with a deep sense of honor and responsibility placed on his shoulders.

Dannit saluted the Captain, squaring his shoulders, and continued to pace along the line of recruits as if the incident with Seth had never happened. "You started this journey as mere cadets, graduates of the Coruscant Military Academy. Now, you are officially soldiers of the Republic, fighting for the grand cause of protecting our great society from the evils of the Sith Empire and all others who threaten democracy. Though this is a milestone in your military careers, it is only the beginning. Some of you may never advance past the rank of private. Perhaps you will make it to the rank of General one day. Either way, all you do from this point forward is for the glory of the Republic. I hereby grant you all the rank of Private in the Republic army. Congratulations soldiers, your journey has just begun."

* * *

 

"Goodbye port dorms, and _hello_ paradise!" Iggy cheered as he packed up his footlocker.

Seth smiled to himself as he packed his own footlocker. "I wouldn't exactly say they're paradise, Ig."

"Gotta be better than these dorms," another recruit chimed in.

Iggy beamed. "Exactly, don't be so negative, Avery!"

"Yeah, 'specially after all that special treatment from the Captain, what'd you do to earn that?"

Seth shrugged. "I dunno, maybe being one of the best damn recruits here had something to do with it."

"Humble, too," Draven muttered irritably.

"Hey, I'm not bragging, you heard Onasi just as well as I did."

"He also said you lacked experience, don't get too fond of yourself."

Seth smirked. "I grew up on Coruscant, being fond of myself is just part of my upbringing."

"Right, I forgot, you were a slummie," Draven's grey eyes shone with unapologetic malice.

Iggy held his hands up. "Whoa, Draven, that mighta been a little too-"

His attempt to diffuse the situation failed miserably as Seth spun instantly and covered the distance between himself and Draven with a single leap. Pinning the older boy by the neck against the ground with his forearm, Seth bared his teeth in the cadet's pale face. "You wanna know _why_ I'm so damn good at what I do? Because I was shooting pistols and piloting speeders before I was ten. Because I knew exactly when to hold my tongue and when to speak out. Because I knew how to read people and I knew how to analyze threats. Because I grew up fending for my life and learning more about survival than any academy training simulation could ever teach you. Because I got into that academy due to sheer willpower and ability. Not like you could say the same thing. You got in because your parents had mounds of credits and spoon-fed you everything you ever wanted, and you're about to get a mad reality check on the battlefield. And if you keep running your mouth about me being a street rat, I'd be more than happy to give you that reality check right now."

Seth felt rather than saw Draven's balled up fist hook around towards his face. The sixteen year old jerked back instinctively, and Draven only narrowly clipped his chin. Seth returned by grabbing the boy's wrist, twisting it behind him with one hand and delivering a powerful left hook at the boy's exposed face. Blood spurted from Draven's nose and the pale boy dove at Seth, knocking him off balance. Seth crossed his arms over his face to guard himself from Draven's wailing blows and spun on his back to force his heel upwards against the other recruit's diaphragm. Draven wheezed, struggling to draw breath in, and Seth shoved him to the ground.

"Break it up!" an older voice barked in a commanding tone even as Iggy dragged Seth away from the fight. In the doorway towered a platinum-haired soldier clad head to toe in Republic armor, glaring at the two privates.

The two scrambled to their feet as Draven spat blood from his mouth and saluted the man. Seth resignedly did the same. "Sir."

"Trask Ulgo. I'm your new bunkmate, Avery. I was coming to help you bring your things to the other side of the ship, but I have the feeling lugging a massive footlocker across a Republic warship is just what you need to clear your head."

"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again."

"Better not. This is off the record. Next time, I won't hesitate to tell a superior officer."

* * *

Twelve hours later, an exhausted Seth Avery shuffled through the doors into the new dormitory he shared with Trask. The older soldier was sitting at the foot of his bunk, pulling on military regulation boots for his shift. "How'd duty go, Avery?" he said without looking up, attempting small-talk.

"Long," Seth admitted. "Quiet. They had us stacking cargo for hours because patrols were so uneventful. Not that I didn't expect it. Not like we're gonna round a corner and run into a Sith squadron while we're patrolling a ship floating outside of Taris's atmosphere."

"You never know, we have those patrols for a reason," Trask said with a shrug. "And on that note, I'd better head out and do my part." He stood, straightening his uniform, and clapped Seth on the back before heading out to patrol.

The boy lowered himself slowly onto the edge of his bunk, peeling off his boots and uniform and throwing them to the floor, too exhausted to place them in the footlocker sitting at the opposite end of the room. He fell backward onto his pillow in nothing but his boxers, hoping for at least an hour of sleep and praying that the nightmares wouldn't interfere.

An hour was about all he got, for an explosion rocked him out of bed and onto the floor not long after he'd slipped into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Seth blinked the drowsiness from his eyes, trying to make the connection in his still-half-asleep mind as to how he'd ended up with his cheek pressed against the cold durasteel flooring of the _Endar Spire_ , and why that blasted alarm was so damn _loud_. A second explosion shook the tiredness from his mind completely, and he bolted upward, alert. He heard the faint _hiss_ of the dormitory door open above the noise of the alarms, and Seth dove for the closest weapon he could find - his boot.

Trask sprinted through the open door, dressed head to toe in Republic combat gear. He glanced down at the underwear-clad, boot-armed Private with a brief look of bewilderment. "Gear up, Avery, we gotta get out of here!" Seth allowed a moment to let the shock of his situation register, before clambering for the footlocker. His regulation armor, tossed carelessly about the cabin just hours before, was too scattered for him to worry about, so Seth grabbed a pair of spacer pants and a combat jacket and proceeded to get dressed faster than he'd ever done before.

"What's going on, Trask?" he yelled over the sound of the still-blaring alarms as he sheathed his shortsword and holstered his blaster.

"Sith!" Trask replied. "We gotta get up to the bridge and find Commander Shan!"

Bastila Shan. Seth had never met the Jedi who'd handpicked his position aboard the _Endar Spire_ , but her reputation preceded her. Only a few years his elder, she had already made quite a name for herself within the Jedi Order and the Republic by joining the strike team that had taken down Darth Revan ten years prior. She was only thirteen at the time, and instantly became one of the greatest heroes the modern galaxy had seen. If she needed Seth on the bridge, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to fight his way there.

Seth nodded at Trask, letting him go ahead and take the lead. Over the loudspeaker, Captain Onasi's voice called every available soldier to the bridge. The sound of boots hitting durasteel was the only other audible noise Seth could hear as he and Trask sprinted down the corridor. It was only when he and Trask had been running for a good five minutes or so that the first sounds of battle came within earshot. Trask whipped out his pistol, motioning for Seth to do the same.

"What was that about never having to worry about rounding a corner and seeing a Sith squadron?" the older soldier remarked. Seth's cheeks would have burned hot with embarrassment had his stomach not worked itself into a tight knot. He'd been in plenty of skirmishes in his childhood on Coruscant, and had even experienced the dreaded 'first kill' years before, but never before had he seen actual battle against trained soldiers. And he knew no amount of academy training or previous experience could have prepared him for it. Still, his pistol was a comforting weight in his palm, and as he rounded the corner and caught his first glimpse of the silver armor that would soon become an all-too-familiar sight in his life, he rolled onto one knee and put the soldier in his sights. Trask fired immediately, giving what Seth assumed was an all-clear signal.

The Sith soldiers retaliated almost immediately, and blaster fire whizzed past the sixteen year old much too close for comfort. He squeezed the trigger, popping several shots into the trooper's chest before switching targets to take down another soldier coming around his left. "Not bad, kid," Trask commented as the skirmish died down. "But those were only a few stragglers, the fighting's thickest on the bridge, we gotta get up there and help!" Seth nodded, and the two went running down the halls of the _Spire_ once again. He didn't bother to holster his pistol, although he did click the safety, letting it swing in his hand as he ran.

When the doors opened to reveal the bridge, Seth felt his stomach drop. It was silent as a graveyard, and may as well have been one. Bodies littered the floor, orange and silver armor alike. He stepped forward, over a fallen Sith soldier's corpse, and took in the carnage even as he walked through it. "A-Avery?" a weak voice coughed. Seth's head jerked to the left in search of the source of the sound, and there Draven sat propped up against a console, a sizeable gash torn across his chest. Blood seeped from his armor, gathering along the edges and threatening to spill over. Seth felt his heart leap up into his throat at the sight of all the blood.

"Oh man," he whispered shakily, his hands trembling as he pressed them against his comrade's wound, trying to stop the blood from spilling through. "Oh man, oh man, oh man."

The red stained his fingers and Draven coughed again, weakly trying to push Seth's hand away. "I'm done for, Avery, get your ass to the escape pods."

"No, we... we have medpacs, just hold on!" Seth frantically dug at his toolbelt for the syringe that could save Draven's life. Just hours earlier he'd have liked to bash his fellow soldier's face in, but all animosities were forgotten in the face of potentially seeing his first casualty of war.

"Avery, we don't have a lot of time, the Sith are going to blow the Spire to dust if they don't get their hands on Shan," Trask reminded him, although he got down on one knee and took the medpac from Seth to inject it into Draven's bloodstream. "Stand him up, we gotta hurry."

Seth slung Draven's right arm around his shoulders and pulled the other soldier to his feet. Draven whimpered at the pain but managed to bite down hard on his lip to avoid crying out in pain. He was a sturdy, muscular guy, and Seth's knees nearly buckled at the unexpected and sudden amount of weight they were carrying. "Can you move your legs?"

Draven nodded. "They got me up top, my legs are fine. And the medpac's kicking in already." He took a cautious step forward, managing to move despite the reliance on Seth to hold up the weight of his body.

"I'll take point," Trask told them. "Keep your gun up, Avery, you're shooting for two now."

They trekked onward through the eerily silent _Spire_ , stepping over corpses and trying not to focus on the very plausible idea that they could be the only ones left alive on the ship. It seemed as though the Sith had pulled out a majority of their troops after the massacre of the _Endar Spire_ 's crew, leaving behind a few shock troops to deal with survivors and perform a final sweep for Bastila, as they'd encountered shortly after leaving the bridge. Trask took them down quickly while Seth ensured Draven's safety, but every time they stopped Seth knew it stole precious time from their efforts to get to the escape pods before the Sith blew the warship into oblivion.

"We're getting close," Trask told them. "The escape pods should be just-"

Seth had to look up from making sure Draven was alright to see what caused his bunkmate to cut himself off so suddenly. He felt his heart leap into his throat, however, when he saw the man standing in the hall perpendicular to where the three Republic soldiers had stopped. A smirk formed on the man's face, his yellowing eyes narrowing at the three as he turned his shaven head to face them. A chill gripped Seth's spine and reached down into his very soul and he didn't have to see the blood red lightsaber blade to know that this man was a dark Jedi. The sound of metal scraping against metal caught Seth's ear, and in his peripheral vision he saw Trask unsheathing his vibroblade. The boy's voice was still caught in his throat, but he managed to give the older man a look of alarm.

"He'll never make it out of here in time, and he won't make it without you. If you make it out, tell them it was an Ulgo that got you there. Go!" Trask didn't say another word, didn't wait to see if Seth even had heard a word of what he'd said. He charged at the dark Jedi, punching the controls as he did so, and the door slid shut behind them with a _hiss_ , leaving Seth and Draven alone in the hallway.

Seth pushed off Draven and ran at the sealed door, slamming a fist against the cold durasteel. "Dammit!" he shouted angrily, his emotions raging to the point of boiling over. He saw red, as red as the blade of the saber that moments earlier he was sure was the blade that would end his life. He balled his fist up tighter, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palm and his knuckles turning white. He'd been fighting the Sith for a cause up until this moment. But now that cause had become so much more real to him. He _hated_ the Sith. He _hated_ the needless loss of innocent Republic lives. And he had never been more sure of his decision to commit his life to bringing each and every one of the members of the Sith Empire to justice.

"Avery, he's gone," Draven said quietly, leaning heavily against the wall opposite Seth.

"I know," Seth said through gritted teeth, unable to lift his head to meet Draven's eyes.

The other recruit sighed, and attempted to stand a little straighter despite his injury. "I'm sorry, man. It's not fair. The Sith play dirty. And they'll pay for it but we gotta get out of here. Trask bought us time but he isn't gonna hold off a dark Jedi for long."

Seth nodded, pulling his fist from its place against the durasteel door. "Yeah."

He moved over to Draven and once again tucked his shoulders beneath the other boy's arm for support. They hadn't made it very far when Seth's comlink went off, using the Spire's emergency channel. He stopped, making sure Draven could stand on his own, before pulling out the device and activating it. Captain Onasi's stubbled face popped up on the screen between bouts of static. "Avery, Melik, I'm tracking your position through the _Spire_ 's life support systems. Commander Shan's escape pod is away. You need to make your way through this next corridor and get out of here before the Sith blows the _Endar Spire_ into galactic dust - we can't wait for you much longer! You have a clear path unless the Sith decide to send another boarding party."

"Yes, Sir. Trask-"

"I know what happened to Ensign Ulgo," Onasi said quietly. "You need to make sure that sacrifice wasn't in vain. Get your ass to the escape pods, soldier. That's an order."

It didn't take long for Seth to lead Draven to the escape pod bay, and by the time they had gotten there the other boy was beginning to stand on his own once again. He winced as he lifted an arm to salute Officer Dannit and Captain Onasi.

"Damn, Melik, you look like shit," Dannit grunted.

"Just glad to be alive, sir," Draven wheezed. "Got Avery to thank for that."

"There are limited medical supplies under the escape pod seats and enough ammo to last you a few days," Captain Onasi said. "Dannit, take Private Melik, tend to him as best you can when you land and then get your asses to safety. Avery, you're with me. Stay safe, watch each others' backs, and wait for Commander Shan's orders. We'll all make it out of this alive."

"Yes, sir," Dannit replied with a crisp salute. He helped Draven into one of two remaining escape pods before turning back to Seth. "Good to see you in one piece, Avery." Seth saluted the officer before Dannit climbed into the escape pod after Draven and closed the door. With a _hiss_ , the pod shot off towards the surface of the planet below. Seth turned to Onasi, who was waiting at the entrance to the Spire's final escape pod, and he was hit with the sudden realization that they were the final surviving members of the crew.

"Come on, Avery," Captain Onasi chided. "Trask risked his life for you to make it to this pod. After you."

Seth slid into the cramped space, fastening the seat straps around his chest as best as he could with trembling hands. Carth climbed in after him, and within second of hitting the launch button the escape pod was hurtling towards the ecumenopolis of Taris. Through the viewport, Seth could see the _Endar Spire_ first breaking in half longways before exploding in a magnificent display of red and orange. Seth could feel the temperature within the escape pod raise significantly as it entered Taris' atmosphere, before his clumsily-strapped seatbeld became undone and he was hurled into the hard durasteel of the pod's interior upon impact with the planet. He saw white for a moment, his ears ringing, before he was aware of Carth's hands on either of his shoulders yanking him from the pod out into Taris's cityscape. His head seemed to be splitting with pain, and Seth closed his eyes for just a moment before slipping into blissful oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful first time visitor to my story! Sweet Sixteen is a project I started back when I was, oh... thirteen or fourteen years old. Now that I'm nearly twenty, I'm deciding to pick it back up again.
> 
> That being said, my early writing was not the best; therefore, the first few chapters are currently being rewritten. Chapter one, which you have hopefully just read, is the result of an intense rewrite of my original writing from 2008. Further chapters are still being rewritten.
> 
> I know there are a LOT of KotOR fanfics out there, all promising a different, creative take on the story we've all come to know and love. Seth Avery is my answer to that promise, a young, complicated protagonist that opens a door to a brand new Knights of the Old Republic story. Thank you for stopping by my little corner of this fantastic site, a home to hundreds of talented creators, and giving this story a chance. I promise you won't be disappointed.


	2. Flirting With Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wake up behind enemy lines and get invited to my first party.

He was dreaming again. Seth knew he had to be because he recognized the space that occupied all his dreams. The cold bridge of a nameless warship was as eerie as ever, but this time it was different. Seth didn’t feel small and helpless at all. In fact, Seth didn’t feel anything, as if he were a disembodied fly on the wall observing the entire scene. And the scene was not one of yelling and screaming and argument and fear - it was one of battle. Two lightsabers clashed, red against yellow, streaking in magnificent displays of light as they whirled about and connected with a _hiss_. One figure, wielding red, was hooded and ominous. The other, a woman who must have been on the cusp of adulthood, wielding gold.

He watched as sparks flew into the air with every attack and counter-attack, while three additional Jedi stood behind the woman, lightsabers drawn and at the ready but not with the intention of rushing into the fray. The gold lightsaber parried, flicking the blood red blade out of the way before the woman cut down her opponent with hardly a second thought. She continued her advance down the bridge, but blackness enveloped Seth’s vision and suddenly he was sitting in a bed. He blinked a few times as he adjusted to the scenery change.

He definitely didn’t recognize where he was whatsoever, and he struggled to remember how he came to this place. He sat up, touching his head and hissing at the white-hot pain he felt as his fingers came in contact with heavy bruising on the back of his head.

“You’re awake, thank the Force.” Seth’s head snapped toward the voice, and he realized he was sitting in an unfamiliar studio-style apartment. On the opposite side of the room sat a familiar face, and though he didn’t remember how he’d gotten to the apartment, it didn’t take much for him to remember his superior officer.

“Captain Onasi, sir!” his hand snapped into a salute and he swung his legs over the side of the bed in an attempt to stand up.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Onasi held his hands up in front of him. “At ease, soldier. Sit back down. You’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness for a couple of days, you need to take it easy.”

“Yes, sir,” Seth said as he sat back down. He was aware of a faint throbbing in his skull but it wasn’t unbearably painful. “You said I was out for a couple of days, sir?”

“Four,” Onasi responded. “And quite a bit’s happened in those four days. You were banged up pretty bad when we crashed, it was all I could do just to drag you away from the crash site. Luckily I stumbled upon this abandoned apartment, so we’ve been holed up in here. The Sith have declared martial law and put in place a planet-wide blockade. I haven’t been able to make contact with Commander Shan or any of the other Republic forces that managed to escape the _Endar Spire._ So it looks like it’s just me and you for now, kid.”

“So what’s next, sir? Do we wait for Commander Shan’s orders?”

“Well, first off, if it’s just gonna be the two of us against the forces of Taris, I’d like to skip the formalities. Call me Carth.”

“Yes, sir,” Seth responded dutifully.

“Yes, _Carth_ ,” Carth corrected him. “This planet is crawling with Sith soldiers. We need to blend in, and acting like a soldier is only gonna raise the red flag to them. And if Bastila - yes, we’re dropping the formalities with her as well - were able to get orders to us, she would have done so by now. Which means she’s either lying low, or she’s been captured. And both of those possibilities require our action.”

“And what action would that be, sir?” Seth waited as Carth stared him down for a long while. “Carth,” the sixteen-year-old amended.

“Just gotta get you in the habit so you don’t slip up in front of Sith troops,” the older man said with a smile. “And we’re gonna find her, and work with her to develop a strategy to get off this rock.”

“How are we supposed to find one person on a planet of billions of people?”

“Bastila’s a Jedi, and wherever a Jedi goes, an onslaught of crazy circumstances is sure to follow. If we keep our ears to the ground, we’ll find her, don’t worry.”

Seth stood, grabbing his blaster off the nightstand and sheathing his sword, Striker before turning to Carth. “If that’s the case, then we’d better start looking soon.”

“Whoa, cool your jets, private.” Carth held his hands up in front of him in a halting gesture, a look of amusement written across his features. “You _just_ woke up. Finding Bastila is a high priority but I need you at your best.”

“Sir, I promise I’m fine. I’m quick with recoveries.”

“I believe that, but for the sake of caution, I’m asking you to wait until tomorrow morning to jump into the action, alright?”

Seth sighed, undoing the clips binding his sword and sheath to his utility belt and placing his blaster back on the nightstand. “Yes, sir.”

There were a few moments of silence before Carth again broke the quiet. “So I read your file, said you volunteered for the navy when you were fourteen?” Seth nodded. “What prompted you to sign on so young?”

“I figured it was the best way to a better life,” Seth shrugged. “I mean sure, war’s not the ideal life, but at least here I know I’ll have a roof over my head and food to eat and people I can trust by my side. Most of the time.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned kid, trust is the last thing you should count on.”

“I grew up on Coruscant, sir, and not the nice side of Coruscant either. I know what it means to not be able to trust anyone. And I can tell you, the people inside of the Republic, even some of the ones at the Academy who know nothing but their parents’ money and how to be utterly centered in their own world, those people are much more trustworthy than most.”

“Right, I get that. I’m just saying you should never let your guard down, no matter how comfortable you get.”

“I’m getting the sense that there’s a story behind this.”

“There is,” Carth said bluntly. “And it’s a story I’m not keen on telling, so keep your questions to yourself.”

Seth opened his mouth to retort, but stopped himself. “Yes… sir,” he said slowly, biting his tongue to stop the flow of burning questions.

“You hungry?” Carth asked, changing the subject on the turn of a dime.

“I… what?”

“You’ve been out for four days, are you hungry?”

He hadn’t thought about it once, but now that Carth had mentioned it, Seth realized just how empty his stomach was, and he nodded ferociously.

“While you were out I did some scouting around, listening in for possible hints on Bastila’s location,” Carth continued. “And in the process of doing so found some of the best Tarisian take-out the planet has to offer.” He stood, holstering his pistol. “I’ll be back. I hope you like braised tach.”

* * *

Carth wasn’t sure how he felt bringing an underage private into a cantina with him, but he really had no other option. He had procured some fake ID’s from a hacker hiding out in the same apartment complex he and Seth had holed up in, and luckily Seth looked just old enough to pull off the age on the card, but it still made him uneasy. “Just remember, Seth, we aren’t here to have fun-”

“I know, I know, I’m not gonna try and drink while we’re here,” Seth said exasperatedly. “That’s the fifth time you’ve needed reassurance that I won’t, and I know I said I wasn’t gonna press the trust issues thing but this is getting ridiculous.”

Carth gritted his teeth. “I… The trust issues have nothing to do with this!” he snapped. “Rather, it’s my own conscience giving a sixteen year old the power to drink.”

“You do know that a majority of the underage recruits sneak juma into the barracks on a regular basis, right sir?” Carth’s eyes went wide, but Seth continued to reassure him, “Not saying I drink with my fellow recruits on a regular basis, because I don’t. I’m just saying that you’re not putting me under any extra temptation than I’ve already faced. Besides, I hear alcohol costs a fortune here, no thank you.

Carth sighed. “Alright, alright, my conscience is alleviated, at least a little bit.”

“Although I’ve always wanted to try Tarisian Ale.” Carth snapped a fixed stare on the private, who looked back at him coolly before cracking a grin. “Kidding, sir.”

The cantina was much nicer than most Carth had been to throughout years of galaxy travel. He was used to shore leave on backwater planets with run-down bars smelling of stale booze and inhabited by shady characters and lowlives trying to drown their sorrows in a bottle of juma. The cantina of Taris’ Upper City, however, was quite the opposite. Well-lit, lively, and smelling of mouth-wateringly delicious Tarisian food, the cantina was the first place Carth had actually felt welcome since crash-landing on the planet.

The establishment was divided into four wings to provide some form of entertainment or relaxation to suit the tastes of just about any guest that wandered through the massive front entrance from the Upper City streets. For the gambler, a luxury pazaak den was set up just inside the cantina’s entrance, although one card shark seemed to have monopolized the den, so the area had become less of a gaming hub and more of the man’s personal lounge. For the sports fans, there was a lounge dedicated to Taris’ professional dueling circuit. Opposite the dueling lounge was a music lounge, where a live band played despite the fact that the only reason tenants even came to their side of the cantina was for the scantily-clad twi’lek dancing onstage alongside them.

And, of course, the bar. It had been Carth’s first pit-stop after ensuring the safety of a then-still-unconscious Seth. The captain had been able to hole up within the abandoned apartment with the injured teenager for all of about a day before he began to get stir-crazy. What with everything he’d endured in the battle of the _Endar Spire_ , Carth had treated himself to what he had felt was a well-deserved drink. He’d been back every day since. So when he ventured in with the younger man at his side for the second time, his feet moved him towards the back to the bar without Carth really consciously aware of where he was going until he’d arrived.

“Back again, already?” the bartender asked, recognizing the captain with just a glance. “This quarantine may have you off-worlders upset, but it sure is giving me some fresh new regulars. Tarisian ale for ya?”

“Please,” Carth said with a nod, and the bartender turned his back on the two to prepare the drink.

“Regular?” Seth asked amusedly, raising a curious eyebrow. “We’ve been here for what, a week?”

Carth turned a withering glare on the private before turning back to the counter to receive his drink. The bartender pointed at Seth. “Anything for you, sir?”

Seth glanced at Carth before adamantly shaking his head no. “I...ahh… I’m here for the dancers, actually,” he said quickly, retreating to the music lounge.

“He old enough to be in here?” the bartender asked casually as he wiped down the inside of a glass with a wet rag.

Carth shrugged. “Just turned twenty, so if your cantina was based back on one of the core worlds, he’d be a little too young. You outer rim worlds are a bit less strict, though, your drinking age is, what? Eighteen? Nineteen?” He was glad years of service had called for a few unconventional undercover ops - Carth had become adept at on-the-spot improvisation.

“Nineteen,” the bartender confirmed, “although now that the Sith have seized control of the government, who knows if that’s going to even be enforced? May as well be a cantina based down in the Lower City if no one’s going to try and uphold the integrity of this establishment.”

“It’s much cleaner, at any rate,” Carth supplied with a smile. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard. The Sith aren’t allowing anyone down there besides their own.”

“Trust me, it’s a good thing they’re keeping the wanderers out. Lower City is dangerous.”

“So I’ve been told,” the captain replied. “But you gotta wonder - what’s so important to the Sith that they feel the need to keep the privileged separate from the riff-raff?”

“I don’t think that it’s about keeping the people separate so much as keeping an eye on what goes in or out,” the bartender set down the glass and leaned in close to Carth, dropping his voice to a whisper. “They’re looking for something.”

* * *

There hadn’t been a large supply of twi’leks in the Republic’s human-dominated Coruscant Military Academy, and Seth was just now realizing that they looked much different in person than they did in their overly-sexualized roles in the galactic media. While the dancers before him still wore the bare minimum of clothing allowed by Tarisian public decency laws and moved their bodies tantalizingly to the music, he was able to appreciate the twi’lek species much more now than he had flipping through his roommates’ holozines back at the academy.

He kept a respectful distance, and although his eyes did wander the lithe bodies of the dancers, Seth did his best to avert them and ward off the testosterone-fueled thoughts before he disrespected them, even if it was just in his mind.

He felt a friendly elbow brush up against his arm, and next to him a man who couldn’t have been more than five years Seth’s elder grinned and pointed at the dancers. “Total babes, huh?”

Seth nodded politely. “They’re beautiful,” he agreed.

“Oh, _beautiful_ doesn’t even begin to cover it, man!” the other man said excitedly.

“Oh, leave him alone, Yun,” a woman called from behind them, and Seth turned to see a tall, fair-skinned woman pulling long red hair from a tight bun. It tumbled over her shoulders in waves, and she tucked a strand behind her ear before facing the two young men. She looked younger than her friend, probably only a couple years older than Seth. “He’s obviously got more conservative tastes.” She turned to Seth. “Don’t mind him, he never gets any action back at the military base, so he runs straight here whenever we’re off duty just to remember what the female body looks like.”

Seth snorted involuntarily, and Yun turned a bright shade of red. “Not my fault you and half the other junior officer women are too busy vying for a promotion to blow off a little steam,” he argued back, attempting to defend his honor.

“Please,” the woman said with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t be caught dead ‘blowing off a little steam’ with you, promotion or no promotion.”

“Junior officer?” Seth inquired curiously.

The woman smiled as she turned her attention back to the younger man. “Yeah! We’re with the Sith occupation force. Yun and I completed basic training a few months back, and ended up getting our first posting out here on this backwater planet. Not necessarily the most ideal location to get stuck on for your first tour, but we make the best of it.”

Seth’s eyebrows rose, although he did his best to hide his surprise. For all he knew, this woman could have been a part of the attack on the _Endar Spire_. Yet she seemed… normal. Almost an exact foil to Seth, who’d just recently graduated from the academy and gotten his first official posting. Both were trying to make the best of their less-than-ideal situations.

She must have mistaken Seth’s silence for offense, and she quickly spoke again. “You’re not a local are you? I didn’t mean to call Taris a backwater, I just-”

Seth cut her off, smiling despite himself, “No, no, I’m an off-worlder. I’d be gone if not for the quarantine.” He wanted to stay polite, and civil, and most importantly for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he wanted this woman to _like him_. It was an odd change of feeling compared to the rage he’d felt aboard the _Endar Spire_.

The woman put her palm to her forehead embarrassedly. “That’s even worse. We’re the ones keeping you stuck here; you probably hate us Sith.”

Seth paused. “Well, yeah,” he admitted. “But you’re just following orders. Can’t really hate you personally for that.”

She smiled. “You’re not like most off-worlders. You’re understanding… and pretty cute, even with that baby face of yours.”

He smiled shyly, chuckling to himself a bit. “I’m Seth, by the way,” he said sticking a hand out to shake hers. She returned the gesture, and he noted how soft her skin was as he shook her hand.

“Sarna,” she replied. They were both quiet for a moment, before she spoke up once again. “I can’t believe I’m asking a stranger this - I promise I’m not usually this forward - but do you have any plans tonight? Some of the other junior officers and I are having a party at my apartment, and I’d love to see you again.”

Seth was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He almost wanted to go, but he was unsure of how he was going to explain to Carth his desire to attend a Sith party. “I…” he paused as Sarna looked back at him eagerly, “... might be able to go.”

She beamed “Oh, good! We’ll be heading over there as soon as our shifts end tonight. We won’t even be running back to the military base to lock up our uniforms, so you wouldn’t have to worry about waiting up for us.”

“Sarna, we’d better head back,” Yun said. He glanced at Seth momentarily. “Looks like I’ll be seeing you tonight, then.”

“Maybe,” Seth asserted, not wanting to be locked into a plan yet.

“Hopefully,” Sarna corrected with a flirtatious smile. “I can’t wait to see you again, Seth,” she said sultrily before following Yun from the room and out of the cantina.

Seth took a deep breath, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. He rejoined Carth at the bar, only half-listening as his commanding officer relayed the information he’d gathered from the bartender. “It looks like Bastila’s pod crashed on the lower levels of Taris,” Carth was saying, “but we can’t get down there unless we can somehow convince the Sith we’re with them. So we’re just about as stuck as we were when we were at square one.”

“D’you think that if we were dressed head to toe in Sith uniforms they’d let us down there?” Seth asked thoughtfully, a plan already developing in his head.

“It’s a thought, but unless you’re planning on assaulting an officer in the streets and taking his armor, I don’t know how we’d obtain a Sith uniform.”

“Well, I actually think I have a way to get those pretty civilly, sir.”

Carth cocked an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Private.”

“Tell me, sir, were you ever much of a partier in your younger days?”


	3. Long Nights and Bar Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I survive my first party and my first bar fight, and meet this _really_ cute twi'lek while I'm at it.

“Sir, is Tarisian ale really _that_ strong?” Seth asked as he surveyed the drunken scene before him. The party had ended hours earlier, he assumed, once Sarna had placed a sloppy kiss upon Seth’s cheek and collapsed to the ground along with her fellow officers after valiantly holding her own even after everyone else aside from herself and a sober Seth had passed out. The music still pulsed loudly throughout the apartment, and strobe lights reflected off the silver of a Sith uniform as Seth pulled one out of Yun’s pack.

Carth shrugged. “Not if you drink it responsibly, no,” he replied to Seth’s question. “But these kids look fresh out of boot camp, they probably aren’t the most seasoned drinkers.”

Seth could agree on that point wholeheartedly. The party had exceeded any expectation that had been set during his tenure at the academy, and these Sith had cemented their organization as the harder partiers in the war. There had been a point where Yun and Sarna had sat a private down, lodged a funnel between his teeth, and poured an entire bottle down the lad’s throat. The three had victoriously raised drunken hands as he guzzled the last drop, swaying and shouting and slurring their words.

Seth had done his best to avoid the craziness of the party while still blending in, and he wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol during the course of the night or that he’d managed to evade Sarna’s drunken advances for a majority of the night.

He’d called Carth the moment the woman had passed out, and was now just looking forward to a shower and a change of scenery.

The hard work had paid off, however, and Seth was giddy to see his plan come to fruition the next day as he and his superior officer slipped down into the Lower City right under the Sith’s noses.

He followed Carth’s lead in changing back into street clothing during the long elevator ride down to Taris’ lower levels. Seth was glad to be rid of the appearance of his enemy, but Carth explained that the reasoning behind the change was to blend in better with the swoop gangs. “Who knows, they would probably shoot any member of authority, even a savage such as a Sith, on sight,” the captain muttered. Seth felt conflicted for just a moment, feeling that Sarna, Yun, and the other Sith he’d met were people he’d hardly consider _savages_ , aside from perhaps their animalistic partying habits. But he was promptly reminded of Trask’s sacrifice and the massive loss of life aboard the _Endar Spire_ and the fact that he didn’t know if people like Draven or Iggy were even alive and Seth gladly shoved the Sith uniform down into the bottom of his pack.

“You don’t really think the gangs are as violent as the Upper City folk make ‘em sound, do you?” Seth asked skeptically. “I mean, there were plenty of gangs in the lower levels of Coruscant when I was a kid, and yeah they had some street wars and occasionally innocents would get caught in the crossfire, but they never outright shot anybody without cause.”

Carth sighed. “I think that the Upper City residents could be exaggerating a bit, but you gotta remember that we’re in the Outer Rim now. Taris isn’t under Republic jurisdiction and so the law operates a bit differently out here. The Exchange probably holds more sway than local law enforcement, and in this case the Sith.”

Seth mulled the point over in his head, but ultimately wasn’t convinced. Taris’ Outer Rim location had nothing on the size of Coruscant and its vast population. And Seth knew that gangsters, despite their lack of concern for the law, were not all bad. He’d learned how to fire a blaster from Coruscant’s Black Suns, and how to fix up a speeder from the Sleeping Rancors. These swoop gangs were likely no different. You just had to know how to talk to them.

He wondered if Carth’s past involved any run-ins with the galaxy’s gang culture. It came to mind that he really didn’t know much about his superior officer. So when the two came across the entrance to a Lower City cantina and the bouncer paid no mind to Seth’s youth, the private offered to buy drinks. Carth gave him a disapproving look, and Seth shrugged. “Look, I promise I’ll get a water or something, your drink’s just on me,” he said. “Consider it a victory celebration for sneaking down here right under their noses.”

An hour later they were seated across from each other in the dingy establishment and Carth was on his second Tarisian ale. And as Seth had hoped, the alcohol was serving to loosen the officer’s lips. “I swear, if this stuff,” Carth waved the mug of ale about for emphasis, careful not to let any drop of the precious liquid slosh over the sides, “was the only export Taris had, they’d still be just as rich up top. This might even beat Telosian whiskey, but it’s been so long since I’ve had any of that, I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“Telosian whiskey?”

Carth sighed, closing his eyes and Seth assumed he was trying to recall the taste. “Best whiskey in the galaxy, Seth,” he said, very seriously. “Soft, estery, dignified drink. It’s a shame you didn’t reach drinking age before the Sith hit Telos, I would have bought you your first drink myself.”

Seth leaned in eagerly. “You would have? Wait - When the Sith hit Telos, they took out _everything_?”

His superior officer nodded. “Everything. Out of all the things I blame myself for over Telos I never thought to pin the extinction of Telosian whiskey on myself.”

“Blame yourself?” Seth propped both elbows on the table, attempting to keep the conversation casual. “How exactly are you to blame for the Sith’s bombardment of Telos?”

Carth shrugged half-heartedly. “I trusted the wrong guy. So I ignored all signs that he was with the Sith until he showed up at our doorstep with an armada, and by then it was too late.”

Seth didn’t quite know what to say, and he swallowed hard as Carth stared down into his near-empty mug of ale dejectedly before downing what was left like a shot. “Man, sir… I mean… wow. I’m sorry.”

“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I lost everything and it was my own damn fault. I could have warned someone Saul had gone rogue. Or at least gotten my family to safety.”

Seth froze. Carth had a family - or he used to. And suddenly the orphaned private felt that he had something in common with the aging captain. He wanted nothing more than to press in with further questions, to know this man that was ultimately a mystery and still the only man Seth could trust at the moment. But he didn’t. He just gripped the edge of the table and looked Carth straight in the eye. “Hey, that’s not your fault. It’s the Sith’s. And I know it’s not much comfort, but I lost my family too. A long time ago. But the Republic is my family now, and that makes _you_ family, sir.”

The captain gave an appreciative smile while signaling a waitress for another refill on his ale. “Thanks, private. I’d rather not talk about it for now.”

“In that case, let’s get back to the part where you said you’d buy me my first drink.” The private let a casual smile touch his features, and Carth chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh, kid, I’m sure you’ve had your first drink by now,” the older man laughed. “I trained at the Academy once upon a time, too. I know how you kids relieve stress.”

Seth was about to shoot back a sharp retort that he had _not_ had his first drink yet when his eyes slid past Carth and to a scene between the tables just beyond the superior officer. A rutian blue Twi’lek stood with her back to Seth in a defensive stance, youthful voice raising in decibel at the pair of Rodians advancing upon her position, bottles of Tarisian ale clutched tightly in their hands. She turned as they circled each other, and Seth’s breath caught as he first caught sight of her profile, then her full features as she faced him. A prominent jawline sloped elegantly to form her face along with high-set cheekbones and full lips curved into a scowl as she stared down the two drunken Rodians. She couldn’t have been any older than Seth was himself, possibly even a bit younger, but her confidence and posture made her seem far beyond her probable age. “I told you to leave me alone!” her voice, he could tell, would have been probably very sweet sounding in any other given situation, but for now was strained, angry, and commanding.

“[We were just wondering what little girl was doing on her own in Cantina]” the first Rodian slurred in Huttese. “[We want to show little girl around a bit]”

“I know my way around the Lower City,” she retorted sharply in Basic, edging away from the second Rodian’s groping hands.

Seth stood as the first Rodian made a grab for her before he could really realize what he was doing or what he intended to do. “Hey!” he shouted weakly.

Carth glanced up at him in alarm. “Private, what are you-” he started, but Seth had already stepped around the table and crossed the distance between himself and the confrontation.

“She said to leave her alone, so space off,” Seth growled, poking hard at the Rodian’s chest and getting up close to the alien’s bug-like face.

“[Human boyfriend doesn’t belong in Lower City,]” the Rodian sneered, looking beyond Seth at the Twi’lek.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” the girl replied with a tone of annoyance, and Seth whipped his head around to retort angrily that he was just _trying_ to help, when he was met with a pair of nearly-hypnotizing chocolate eyes and all words he’d planned to say were lost to him.

“[Little Human boy think he tough,]” the second Rodian chimed in. “[Maybe we teach him a lesson!]” Seth ducked under a swinging fist and gave a forceful shove to one of the Rodians as he turned to face the other.

“Oh, Force,” the Twi’lek groaned. “Big Z, get over here, this guy’s trying to be a hero!”

“ _Trying_?” Seth asked incredulously as he ducked another fist. “I step in to help out, you could at least have a little faith in-” He was cut off at the approach of a massive Wookiee, towering over the two Rodians as he stepped up beside the Twi’lek.

“[We have no problem with Wookiee,]” the first Rodian stuttered, arm still cocked back to deliver a right hook to Seth’s nose. “[We have problem with Human boy.]”

“You got a problem with _him_ ,” the Twi’lek pointed at Seth, “then you got a problem with _me_. And if you got a problem with me, you got a problem with Big Z. So maybe you should space off before this gets messy.”

“[Little girl will not always have Wookiee to protect her,]” the Rodian sneered. He pointed a scaly finger at Seth. “[And Human boy got very lucky.]” The two slinked away as Seth delivered an obscene gesture behind their backs.

“Thanks for trying to help out,” the Twi’lek said, and Seth began to turn and explain that he’d had it handled when he was once again cut off by those deep brown eyes.

“You’re… uh… you’re welcome,” he managed. “It’s what I do.” 

She allowed a genuine smile to play across her lips and Seth couldn’t help but smile back. A melodic laugh reached Seth’s ears. “Okay, so you’re obviously new here. Offworlder?”

“Is it that obvious?” he laughed.

She shrugged. “I mean, a bit. But I’ve never met you before, and Big Z and I know just about everyone in this sector of the Lower City.”

He gestured to the Wookiee, who had up to this point been silent. “I assume this is Big Z?”

The Twi’lek threw a palm to her face. “Ugh, of course, introductions! My name’s Mission, this walking carpet over here is my best friend, Zalbaar.”

“[Pleased to meet you,]” Zalbaar nodded at Seth as he greeted the boy in Shyriiwook.

He nodded back at the Wookiee politely and reached out to shake Mission’s outstretched hand. “I’m Seth.”

“What are you doing here on Taris?” she asked. “Just stuck here ‘cause of the quarantine?”

“You could say that.”

“And what put you on Taris before the Sith put the planet on lockdown? You a trader or a spacer?”

Seth shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I’m a spacer.”

Mission shook her head. “Try again, I can tell you’re green when it comes to visiting new planets.”

“I mean, this just happened to be my first time in space,” Seth rambled. “And I just happened to land here, and-”

She cut him off, reaching a hand up to the collar of his shirt, dipping her fingers inside, and wrapping them around the cold metal chain that was hidden around his neck. She gave a gentle upward pull and Seth instinctively grabbed his dog tags and shoved them back beneath his shirt. But it was too late. Mission let out a gasp and Seth knew she’d seen them.

“Holy Force,” she whispered, and he grabbed her hand anxiously to quiet her.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I mean, after the Sith took over I learned to recognize you soldier types, and to be honest I was expecting to see the Sith insignia on those tags but… Holy Force… you’re-”

He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Shhhh.”

“Do you know how many warrants are out for your arrest and bounties there are on your head?” she gasped when he finally removed his hand.

“I’m vaguely aware,” he said curtly. “And I’m assuming that by not letting the Wookiee crush me, you’re not interested in collecting?”

“I’ve heard of what the Sith can do,” Mission replied solemnly. “Just ‘cause Taris is an Outer Rim world doesn’t mean I don’t know which side I should be rooting for in this war. But, man, you gotta be careful. I mean, I’m really observant, so I may be an extraneous case, but I could still pick you out as a military guy pretty quickly. Loosen up your stance, and stop it with the direct eye contact with those dreamy greens, it’s a telltale giveaway.”

Seth’s mind could only focus on one word that had come out of her mouth as a shy smile quirked at the corner of his lips. “Dreamy?”

Brown eyes rolled. “Oh, hush, I’m trying to help you. How old are you, anyway? You gotta be fresh out of basic training or whatever they call it.”

“I’m sixteen,” he replied slowly. “And I trained at the Academy, so it’s a little more specialized than basic training.”

“Oh, specialized, we got a hotshot over here,” she chuckled. “I would have guessed you were at least a couple years older than me, you must just be tall.”

Seth squared his shoulders. “Yeah I was one of the taller guys in my class. You’re how old, then?”

“Fifteen,” she replied with a shrug. “But I think we both know with the state of the galaxy we’re in, there’s not much time to be a kid around here. Maturity level bounces up a lot further than my age would suggest.”

Seth laughed. “I’d like to say the same applies for me, but to be honest I don’t really know what the typical maturity level is for kids our age, I never really got to grow up within a controlled environment like that. Either on the streets or in training, you know?”

She smiled. “I think that’s what ups your maturity factor. Trust me, other guys your age are sitting around making fart noises and laughing. I can tell you’ve got a good head start. But hey, you said you were on the streets for a bit? Fellow street urchin?”

He chuckled. “On Coruscant I think the general term is ‘street rat,’ but yes. You grew up down here I assume?”

She nodded. “I was born on Ryloth, but my brother and I escaped and ended up here when I was about, oh, four or five years old?” Mission shrugged. “I’m not going to bore you with my life story, the point is that I’ve been here for just about a decade now and if you need a personal tour guide to Taris, here I am.”

“[For the sector, at least,]” Zalbaar chimed in. For a moment Seth had forgotten the stoic Wookiee had been standing there. “[She sure showed me around when I arrived.]”

“How’d you two end up running together, anyways?” Seth asked, genuinely curious.

“Big Z ran into some trouble with the Vulkars in his first few weeks on Taris. I just happened to stumble across a deal to sell Zaalbar to some of the Gammorean slavers running their operations in the sewers, and couldn’t bear to let them sell him off like that, so I charged in. Shook up the scene enough for Big Z to break out of his cage and take out the Vulkars and Gammoreans. When it was all over, Zaalbar got really solemn and swore a Wookiee life debt – and eventually became my best friend. We’ve been together ever since.” She smiled as she patted her hairy friend on the arm.

“Wookiee life debt,” Seth repeated, a bit awestruck at this young woman who stood before him. “That’s some serious stuff.”

“[Mission saved me from a life of slavery – a life that plagues too many of my people. For that, I owe her my life. Beyond that, she really understands the ways of this planet so far from my homeworld. I’d have been lost without her guidance.]”

Mission shrugged. “Honestly, I just know how to listen to the gossip.”

“You know what,” Seth said, eyes lighting up a bit as an idea dawned on him, “you just might be able to help me out. Do you know anything about the crashed Republic escape pods? Maybe anyone that may have come out of them?”

“Only that they landed in the Undercity the Vulkars picked them clean before anyone else knew they’d crashed,” she said with a scowl. Then, under her voice, “Little sons of schuttas.”

“So if I were looking for someone, would I ask the Vulkars?” he asked.

Mission immediately began to shake her head furiously, head-tails slipping from their position resting over her shoulders in the process. “No, they’d shoot you on sight. You think the Sith are awful but at least their parents taught most of ‘em some manners.”

Seth sighed. “Well, it was worth asking.”

“You know what,” Mission said thoughtfully, “I think I may have heard Gadon talking about the Black Vulkars finding some people of value down there last time I hung out at the Bek base.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Who said what where?”

Mission let out a little giggle and Seth blushed furiously for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. “Right, you’re new here. Gadon Thek’s the leader of the Hidden Beks gang - they used to run this sector of the Lower City before those bantha-spacing Black Vulkars moved in. I spend a lot of time over at the Bek base, and I think I remember Gadon saying something about somebody the Vulkars picked up from those Republic escape pods.”

“You’re in a gang?”

She shook her head. “No, they’ve never asked me to join. But don’t look at me like that, the Beks are one of the good ones, and Gadon’s no friend of the Sith. He’ll help you.”

Seth shrugged. “I ain’t one to judge gangs, I got involved with ‘em back on Coruscant just to scrape by, so I don’t have much room to talk. It sounds like this might be a decent lead though. Could you get us into the Hidden Bek base?”

“I practically live there,” she said with a laugh. “We can go right now, if you want.”

“[Mission, I haven’t finished my food!]” Zalbaar argued.

“Well, hurry up and eat it, then,” she shot back.

Seth held his hands up in a slowing gesture. “Hold on, guys. I gotta talk to my superior officer before I even think about coming with you.”

“Superior officer? You mean there’s more than just you?”

Seth jerked a thumb back over his shoulder at Carth, who was still sitting at the table with his Tarisian Ale, content with letting Seth do all the talking. “Yeah, the man at the table back there.”

“Oh, you mean grandpa sitting by himself?”

 

The Hidden Bek base reminded Seth quite a bit of his time with the Black Suns back on Coruscant, right down to the crates of contraband stacked floor-to-ceiling sporadically throughout the place. Hidden Bek members met Seth and Carth with unwelcome glares, but it seemed Mission paid their disdain no mind as she swaggered through the base greeting everyone by name.

An older, intimidating Twi’lek woman stepped forward, stopping Mission in her tracks. The younger girl nearly ran straight into the newcomer. “Hey, Zaerdra,” she said chirpily. “Is Gadon here?”

“Who are they, Mission?” Zaerdra asked, stone faced. A purple skinned hand found its place on her hip as she gave a stern glare at the younger Twi’lek before glancing at Seth and Carth.

Mission huffed. “They’re my _friends_ ,” she replied. “And they aren’t a threat.”

“That’s _not_ for _you_ to decide,” Zaerdra replied coldly.

“They’re looking for information, Zaerdra. And I think Gadon might be able to work out a trade for that information that benefits the Beks. Like maybe tracking down a certain stolen prototype?”

Seth allowed his eyebrows to raise a bit at the prospect of having to complete a favor for a favor, but a quick glance at Carth told him the Captain had likely suspected that agenda the moment Mission had offered to bring them to Gadon.

“You’re not supposed to know about that,” Zaerdra said quietly as a flame ignited in her eyes. “Let alone blab about it.”

“Are you gonna take us to Gadon or not?” Mission fired back, her sass level matching Zaerdra’s anger. The older Twi’lek pursed her lips, and with a warning glare at the newcomers, motioned for them to follow.

“Your best bet is to be one hundred percent truthful about who you are to Gadon, whoever you are,” Zaerdra told them as she led the four through the winding hallways of the Hidden Beks’ base. “He’ll figure out who you are sooner or later anyways. Being up front with him is the only way you’ll earn his trust, however.”

Seth glanced at Carth briefly, silently questioning whether Zaerdra’s proposed course of action was the best to take. Carth nodded reassuringly, and Seth breathed a sigh of relief at his captain’s confidence. He felt Mission’s gentle touch on his forearm as she tried to get his attention, and ignored the goosebumps prickling at his skin as he turned to look at her.

“She’s right,” Mission whispered. “Gadon won’t hesitate to help you guys, you can trust him. And I know you just met me and you can’t really make a claim to trust me yet, but you can trust me, too.”

“I trust you,” he said quietly, before he could really realize what he was saying. It was true. It was an impulsive decision of trust, and very likely not a wise one, but he did trust her. She blushed and gave him a small smile.

“I won’t break that, then. It means a lot.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it as they approached a standard-issue durasteel desk. The man behind the desk closed down several electronic displays before standing and stepping out from behind the barrier to face his guests.

“Gadon, Mission insisted that-” Zaerdra began, but the man raised a hand to cut her off.

“It’s no trouble, Zaerdra.” He smiled at the younger Twi’lek as he spoke. “Mission tends to have good judgement about who she keeps as company.” He winked, and Seth did a double take as he realized the man had prosthetic eyes. “Swoop accident,” Gadon explained coolly with a casual gesture toward the prosthetics, and Seth averted his eyes, embarrassed for staring so long. The older man chuckled, running a hand over a shaven head as he shook it.

“My name is Gadon Thek, I’m the leader of the Hidden Beks here on Taris. And you’re pretty new around here, I can tell, so introductions are definitely in order.”

“Captain Carth Onasi,” Carth reached forward to shake Gadon’s hand. “Republic Navy. This is Private Seth Avery.” Seth lifted his chin a bit at the mention of his name, being sure to stand ramrod-straight as a soldier was expected to. All the blending in he’d been doing with the citizens of Taris had done terrible things to his form.

“Republic, huh? Not a name you want to be flaunting around the Lower City, my friend. But you’re safe here.”

“We appreciate that,” Carth replied with genuine earnesty. “Mission mentioned to us that you might know something about someone taken from the crashed Republic escape pods. We’re looking for our commander, a woman named Bastila.”

Gadon frowned. “That’s definitely a name that’s crossed my desk a couple times within the past week. But I’m afraid you won’t like what I have to say.” Seth glanced at Carth anxiously, noting the way the captain’s stubbled jawline tensed in preparation for bad news. “The Black Vulkars beat just about everyone to those downed Republic escape pod in the Undercity,” Gadon continued. “And the Sith sure weren’t happy about it. From what my men have discovered, it seems that the Vulkars have captured a Republic officer by the name of Bastila, and their leader, Brejik, is offering her as the grand prize in next week’s Taris Swoop Opener.”

“ _Offering_ her?” Carth repeated incredulously. “Like a slave?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Gadon’s prosthetics were downcast in disappointment. “The Vulkars operate under a fairly loose moral code, and slavery is something they don’t hesitate to dabble in.”

“Well, while I can hardly see _any_ slavemaster being able to bend Bastila to their will, we have to get her out of there! Where would the Vulkars be keeping her? Their base?”

Gadon laughed, shaking his head. “She’s far too valuable for Brejik to keep her around his lackeys at the base. My best guess is that he’s gotten her hidden somewhere safe until he’s ready to reveal her at the Opener.”

“So, what, we just wait until the opener to break her free?”

“Two of you leading an all-out assault on one of the biggest swoop events in the galaxy?” Gadon’s tone was mocking. “No, that’s a sure fire way to get yourself and most likely your commander killed. Your best bet is to win her at the Opener.”

“ _Win_ a swoop race?” Carth said disbelievingly. “How exactly is attempting to do that more effective than blasting our way through?”

“It’s civilized, and Brejik and his men won’t cut you into pieces. All you’d need to do is get sponsored by a swoop gang, and I’m willing to do that, for a price.”

Carth opened his mouth to reply, but Seth stepped forward. “What’s the price? I’ll do it.” The captain gave the private a sidelong look of confusion. “I prepped swoop bikes for riders back on Coruscant. I know a couple tricks of the trade. And if it’s anything like piloting a starfighter, I passed my pilot’s exams with flying colors. I can do this.”

“Seth, you’re sixteen, I’m not going to-”

“Sir, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to complete our objective.”

Carth was silent for a moment, auburn eyes searching Seth’s. With a heavy exhale, he brushed his stubborn bangs to the side and placed a hand on his hip. “Alright, Private. Your call.” He turned to Gadon. “What do you need from us?”


	4. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carth, Mission, Zalbaar and I take on the Undercity and the Black Vulkars' secret base.

Seth had decided that he hated rakghouls. It only took one look at the twisted face, hunched back, mucus covered body and completely soulless black eyes for him to make up his mind on the subject - It was hard to believe that these shrieking abominations had once actually been sentient.

And they also had a nasty fetish for attacking the outcasts living in the filth of Taris’ underbelly, as one was demonstrating now. This particular outcast was pressed up against the grating of the gate, fingers clawing at the gatekeeper through the small holes they fit through. Fearful tears left tracks through the layers of grime on his face as he begged for the gate to be opened as the silhouette of an advancing rakghoul became ever prominent behind him. Seth's demands for the gate to be opened fell on deaf ears, even with the man's wife, he presumed, sobbing for the gate’s guard to listen to him.

But the guard was adamant in his refusal and no one, especially a teenager, was going to change his mind. Carth had gone to speak with the Undercity outcast leader, and Seth had only Mission to back him up in the situation as Zaalbar had also gone off in search of food for trade from the village’s trademaster - he was hungry again. And while at first he’d been excited for an opportunity to get to know his new friend more, this wasn’t exactly the circumstances under which he’d have liked that to occur.

“Any of your basic training prepare you for something like this?” Mission’s tones were solemn to match her expression as she watched the man’s wife collapse to the ground in despair.

And suddenly, Seth was reminded of moving target practice and he had an idea. “Actually,” he said as he whipped out his pistol, “yeah.” He marched forward, determined, straight up to the front of the gate. "Get down." He ordered the outcast, who quickly complied, wedging himself into the corner of the gate.

The rakghoul stepped into the light and Seth had to fight hard to keep his rather generous meal down. The many stories of horror and violence, though accurate, could not have prepared him for this moment.

It had the hunched back and slimy body he had been told about - that was no problem - but the face was one of the sights that would haunt him for the rest of his life. On one hand it was a twisted beast, but on the other it was still distinctly human and what probably used to be a handsome one at that. But now the eyes were wild with a mindless, savage hunger and the mouth full of black needle-like teeth twisted into a hideous grin, pale green saliva dripping from its maw.

Seeing its prey cornered, the rakghoul let out a undulating cry of triumph and threw itself into a rough gallop. Seth fired his pistol, but the shot went wide due to the erratic movements of the creature. But the shot did draw its attention away from the outcast; it was now charging straight at the gate.

Fighting panic, Seth stilled his shaking hand and held his breath. Following the sniping instructions he received in basic, he let the target come into his scope, rather than trying to put his sights on it.

He fired once. Twice. Three shots were delivered dead center to the target. The Rakghoul's momentum still carried it right up to the gate. For a moment Seth was face to face with the beast before its dead body fell to the ground and lay still.

Seth released the breath he held been holding and turned to the gaping gatekeeper.

"Wanna open that gate now?" he asked, his sense of humor intact even through the most stressful situations despite the fact that his voice still quivered a bit as he delivered the line. The keeper nodded numbly, stunned by the skill he had just witnessed and threw the lever to raise the gate. The outcast on the outside ran to his wife and embraced her tightly, both weeping with relief.

The woman looked up tearfully into the man’s eyes. "H-Hendar I... I..." Hendar interrupted her place leaning in and kissing her passionately.

Seth averted his eyes, embarrassed. He felt as if he was intruding on these two.

Just before Seth was going to try to get their attention, they broke their kiss and turned to him. It was the woman who spoke first. "Thank you... if you hadn't of killed that.. _thing_ I don't know what I... I..." she could not continue, overcome with emotion, she began crying into Hendar's shoulder.

He rubbed her back soothingly. "Shhh… Hester, it’s okay.” Hendar turned to Seth. “I owe you my life, death would have been a mercy if you hadn't killed that thing! If I had anything more than the clothes on my back they would be yours. I only wish I had half of your courage."

Seth shrugged modestly. "It's what I do."

“Thank you,” Hendar replied sincerely.

Hester dried her eyes and looked back up to Hendar's face. "Come Hendar, let's get back to the village." He nodded, rubbing her back gently and together the couple started walking towards the collection of makeshift huts and tents.

"Hey wait!" Seth called after them. They turned back to face him and he tossed something to Hendar. "For you two."

They both stared in pure awe at the fifty credits in the palm of Hendar's hand.

***

Mission had to admire her new friend. While most men would have watched on, he’d stepped forward to fell a charging rakghoul - and rather than ask for reward, he continued to give generously from his own pocket to those he’d already helped. She could count the number of people with such kindheartedness on one hand, and even then, most of them had long since outgrown the arrogance of their teenage years. No, Seth was something special.

The thought also brought up her own lack of charitable acts. And from the sound of Hester's voice, even clothes on Hendar's back would soon be gone. _“Well I've just never had the money to do random donations!”_ she reasoned with herself, before an unsettling thought crossed her mind. _“Great, now I sound like-”_ Mission cut her own thoughts off. She did not have time to think about Griff now. No time to start going off about that schutta either. She would deal with those problems when the time came, not before.

She looked over to Seth, who at the moment was using his studiously polished and shined datapad as a mirror to fix his hair.

 _“A real stickler for perfectionism that one... but cute.”_ The thought had barely formed itself before Mission shut it down quickly and forcefully. She was in the _Undercity_. Of the more appropriate places to start developing a crush on someone, she did not think this was one of them.

On top of that, the idea of developing a crush on a Republic soldier was outlandish and ridiculous to her. He’d be around until he could get past the Sith blockade, and then be off to see the rest of the galaxy while Mission continued about her life on Taris. It was logistically a poor decision, in addition to the absurdity of the thought that a stand-up guy like Seth would ever end up with a girl like her. No, Mission cut the very idea off before it could develop in her mind any more. Still, as she looked on at the young man fixing up his appearance, she thought there could be no harm in making a friend.

She looked over to Carth, who was also watching Seth with no small amount of amusement. "Are we gonna get going? If we're going into the sewers, we might as well get it over with."

Carth shrugged. "Well if Mister Beauty-Queen over there ever finishes up over there, then..."

"Hey!" Seth was scowling at Carth. "I work darn hard on this sir!" he asked, gesturing to his hair.

Carth shook his head. "When a rakghoul tries to kill you, chances are that your hair will be slightly less than perfect afterwards. You can finish fixing it later. And I've told you not to call me sir."

Seth rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. It's what I do. Hey Mish, where are we going exactly?"

Mission allowed a raise of her eyebrows at the nickname, but repressed the need to comment so that she could answer his question. "The lower sewers, there's an entrance nearby and if we move quickly and quietly, we probably won't encounter any more rakghouls."

Seth winced. "Does it have to be the sewers?"

"Do you want to get into the Vulkar base?"

"Yeeeah," he replied slowly.

"Well then you have to get through the sewers,” she retorted with a smug cross of her arms.

"Why is it that the bad guys always have to put their back doors in places like the sewers? Why can't they put them somewhere nice for a change??" She had to repress the urge to laugh - he’d obviously seen far too many holovids.

Mission grinned maliciously. "Because if they did that, then the dashing heroes wouldn't get to avoid stepping in... certain things."

Seth groaned.

***

The stench of the sewers felt more like an assault on Seth's nostrils than anything else. It was one of the worst scents that the boy had smelled in his young life, aside from witnessing mynock reproduction for a general studies biological report back at the academy. To this day he could not stand the smell of concentrated garlic, it was too similar.

This time though, he doubted he would find a match for this smell in any food he would eat.  
He forced himself to breath through his mouth, but it didn’t help much. It was like he could taste the air around him as well. The urge to vomit came back with a vengeance.

Mission, who was leading the way, stopped suddenly and went rigid.

"What's wro..." he trailed off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He jumped and tackled Mission to the ground. "GET DOWN!" he shouted at the others.

Carth and Zaalbar flattened themselves against the floor just as an explosion thundered in the air right above them.

Mission was about to thank Seth but he and Carth had already risen and were sprinting down the hall, Seth clutching his sword and Carth his blasters. She glanced up and saw a Gammorean standing at the end of the hall hefting a grenade launcher, proceeding to fire again.

The grenade did not get far due to Carth blasting it in midair. However, the detonation did cause them both to reel back from the concussion. Seth, not wanting to let the Gammorean have another shot at them, threw his sword at it. The blade hit it directly in the torso, causing it to drop to its stubby knees, squealing in pain and spraying viscous green blood on the floor.

Running up to the squirming alien, Seth pulled out his blaster, shot it again, and it stilled. Carth clapped him on the back as he approached the felled Gammorean. "Not bad Private, not bad at all."

Seth grinned. "Thank you sir. But we should probably keep moving, fighting rakghouls in here would be a nightmare."

“What’re Gammoreans doing down here anyways?” Carth asked as they began to move again.

“Slavers,” Mission replied quietly. “They probably attacked to get their hands on Big Z.” The Wookiee let out a woeful roar. “Don’t worry, Big Z. As long as I’m breathing they won’t get their hands on you!”

They continued on, this time with their pathfinder Mission leading the way with Carth and Seth close behind her, scanning the shadows for more Gammoreans and Zaalbar acting as rear guard armed with two vibroswords.

For the next half hour, they trudged through the dripping and creaking tunnels, on the alert for any rakghouls or Gammorean ambushes. It was Mission who finally broke the tense silence. "Soo… uh, Seth? How did you end up joining the Republic Navy?"

Seth shrugged. "I grew up on Coruscant, and got pulled into the gang life out there pretty quickly. When I tried to leave the gang, things got ugly, and I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. So when I was thirteen, I applied for the Coruscant Military Academy, took a couple aptitude tests, and got accepted on a full-ride scholarship to study and enlist."

"Wow,” Mission breathed. “That’s amazing. But how did you get shipped out so..."

"So young?"

Mission twiddled with her lekku, embarrassed. “Sorry if I offended you, I hate it when people start talking about my age too."

Seth waved his arm dismissively. "Nah it's okay Mish, I got over that issue a long time ago. I got used to it, you might say. Of course the constant ‘You're all just brats fresh off the teat’ dressing-downs I got from the drill Sergeants might have-" he cut himself off and looked back up at Mission apologetically. "I guess I've gotten a little off topic."

She shrugged. "That's okay, I can get a little long winded myself."

Seth smiled before continuing. "Well first off; the Republic needs all the help they can get. So on the more densely populated Outer Rim planets, the recruiters were ordered to lower the bar for minimum draft age, quite a few of my friends quickly found themselves on transports to the academy for high scores on those aptitude tests I mentioned. As for everyone already at the academy, we’d already committed to the cause and our training was accelerated - the Republic has to turn out as many trained recruits as possible to make up for the massive loss on the front lines. The drill sergeants gave no quarter in basic training, I believe they called it ‘making men out of us momma's boys.’ I remember this one sergeant, a real hard-nosed son of a vorrok, he seemed to take a certain satisfaction from running _me_ into the ground.” He laughed, realizing he’d once again strayed off-topic. "But now just months later here I am, slogging through the crud and muck straight from the rich and noble backside of the great planet Taris."

Once again silence settled on the group, and Carth looked over at Seth with sympathy. The boy had had the carefree and wild time of adolescence cut off prematurely short, forced into the world of turmoil and darkness that was war.

Soon after Seth's monologue, the hallway ahead was cast with a shifting purple light, like sun rays filtering through water. Turning the corner, they came upon a large energy shield. It stretched all across the hallway, completely cutting off their route.

Carth glanced back at Mission. "And I assume this would be...?"

She grinned. "The back door into the Vulkar base."

"Well then, you should probably get to work." Seth jerked his head toward the control panel on the side of the shimmering barrier.

The Twi'lek nodded and set to work punching an elaborate series of numbers into it. Nothing happened, so she frowned and repeated the code more carefully. This time, the barrier rippled for a few seconds before fading away. “There you go,” she said chirpily. “One open door. Now do you see why Gadon sent me with you?” She directed the question towards Carth, referring to his protest earlier to the idea of bringing _another_ teenager along on their mission. While the captain had been none-too-enthused by the plan, Seth had seemed excited to bring along someone his age, and Carth had reluctantly agreed that both Mission’s skill with computers combined with Zaalbar’s strength could only benefit them in the long run. 

Mission hoped that helping them complete this task for the Hidden Beks would eventually lead to an invitation into the gang. She’d been struggling for so long to find a place where she belonged, and the Beks seemed like the only logical option for her at this point.

Yet, she wondered why she felt more comfortable with these two strangers than she’d ever felt with Gadon, Zaerdra, and the others. She glanced over at Seth, who smiled politely at her before leading the way beyond the fallen barrier, and wondered what would become of her new friendships after the assault on the Vulkar base concluded.

***

Carth stared dumbly at the sight before him. A rancor crouched in the far end of the vault-like cavern they had come to, and it was right in front of the heavy metal blast door that led to the Vulkar compound.

"And when, I wonder, were you going to deign to tell us that there is a freaking rancor guarding the back door?" he asked tersely.

Mission's cheeks went a deep purple as she blushed embarrassedly. "Umm... surprise?"

“I might have an idea,” Seth said after some thought, tentatively. Carth nodded permission to go on, and the boy proceeded back down the hallway they’d come from, beckoning the others to follow. He stopped at a corpse of a Gammorean they had run across earlier and by the looks of him, had been killed a few days ago.

"Okay, here's the plan; we take Chubby here, put a mine on him, toss him into the rancor's den and let its hunger do the work for us."

Carth scratched his chin, considering Seth's plan. "Could be a bit messy."

Seth stared incredulously at him. "We've been slogging through rakghouls, pigs with axes, and the crud and used Tarisan ale of the city above us, I can't quite see this getting any messier," he retorted.

A few minutes later they were dragging along a Gammorean corpse with a plasma mine stuffed in its mouth - a fact that Carth was rather disturbed that he found funny. And then, after enlisting the help of the legendary strength of the Wookiees, they tossed it into the waiting rancor's metal lair.

The rancor reacted almost immediately to the new meat it was offered, stumbling forwards, possessing an excellent sense of smell to compensate for its poor eyesight. When it came to the Gammorean corpse, it wasted no time in devouring it, mine and all, in less than ten seconds.

Seeing this, Seth ducked behind the door with the others and hit the detonation button on his remote. There was a muffled boom followed by the tremors of a huge beast hitting the durasteel floor.

The group emerged from their hiding place and saw that the rancor had indeed been killed. Seth moved closer to marvel at the fallen beast, secretly impressed that his plan had worked. He stood there for a few moments before running to rejoin the others at the blast door Mission was hacking. With a small victorious shout from her, the door slid open... to reveal two Vulkar guards behind it.

The startled guards reached for their weapons but did not get them out in time to stop Carth and Seth from whipping out their own and pulling the trigger. Their now-headless bodies slumped to the floor, revealing an elevator behind them.

They were in.

***

"Carth are you sure the elevator to the lower level is around here?" Mission asked. They had been wandering around for almost half an hour without success.

Carth studied the datapad that Seth had downloaded the map of the compound onto. "Well this thing is pretty complex, I think we may have taken a few wrong turns..."

Seth sighed, also tired of fruitlessly wandering. "You think? It seems to me that you might... might..." he trailed off.

"What is it?" Carth and Mission asked in unison.

He stood there for a few seconds without answering, sniffing the air instead. And then he suddenly turned and sprinted into a passage perpendicular to the one they were in. Carth and Mission exchanged a glance, and the older soldier shrugged before gesturing to follow, first easing into a jog before breaking into an all-out run. They all pursued Seth, however difficult it was. Often they could barely see his form turning the corners at a breakneck speed.

Mission was flagging and Zaalbar was beginning to breathe heavily when Seth turned one more corner and a blaster shot rang out. Fearing the worst, Carth cautiously poked his head around the corner. The sight that greeted him was what looked like a kitchen with a smoking guard droid chassis lying on the floor and Seth at one of the counters with a large nerfbuger poised at his gaping mouth.

"Ahem."

"What's wrong sir?" Seth asked, the burger still just in front of his teeth.

"What is that?"

"I believe it's still called 'lunch' sir." He then proceeded to take a barbaric bite out of it.

Mission covered her mouth with a hand, barely containing her fit of giggles as Carth slapped his palm against his forehead. "We are in enemy territory with a specific objective in mind, Private! Is eating the only thing that comes to mind right now?"

Seth put up a hand defensively. "I'm a growing young man sir, I need nourishment!" Still holding the now quarter eaten nerfburger, he turned to four more of them lying on the counter in front of him covered in thermo foil and began to stuff them in his backpack for later.

Carth struggled to keep a straight face and even tone, a red flag rising in the don’t-trust-anyone section of his subconscious as he realized just how much the young man was growing on him. "Private, we have to keep moving, that's an order."

Seth sighed. "Yes sir."

***

"Did you have to get five of them?" Mission asked Seth some time later, referring to the nerfburgers. They had found the elevator to the garage and were now picking through the various rooms in the lower level, searching for the security storage room as it was marked on the map.

"Probably, once I got some caffa on the drill chiefs shirt and I didn't get any food for the rest of the day and come the next morning I found myself devouring a good quarter of the rations provided for the recruits, I think that the cooks were more impressed than anything else."

"Alright," Carth interrupted. "Barring any unforeseen map misunderstandings, the security storage room should be riiiigghht... Here!" he punched the button to open the heavy door they had come to.

A workbench in the back of the room held the object in question; the prototype accelerator didn’t look like much, but the six Vulkars guarding it made Carth pretty sure that it was the valuable piece of equipment the Beks had ensured it was. The Vulkar guards looked up from a game of Pazaak they’d been playing at the room’s central table, startled at the intrusion, and immediately reached for their blasters.

Seth sighed and looked over to Carth. "Are things always this complicated?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

***

"Tell me again sir, why was I the one elected to carry this thing?" Seth asked Carth as he shouldered the backpack carrying the prototype accelerator. Despite its size, the piece of machinery was much heavier than expected, and Seth’s bones groaned under the extra weight they were now supporting.

A smile flickered across Carth's face. "Well, you're a growing young man, you need exercise."

Seth grunted. "Well I'll also probably benefit later in life from not having my back broken! Seriously, it feels like its about to telescope!"

"Oh come on, its not _that_ heavy."

"Yeah? Do you want to carry this sir?"

"No not really, thanks for the offer though."

When they did reach the entrance to the Bek base, it was all Seth could do to not just drag the accelerator behind him. The greeting they received from the guard at the door was much different than the one they had gotten on their first visit, the woman was actually smiling. Evidently she knew what was in the bag. Without having to be prompted, she opened the door for them.

The news of their success spread like wildfire. Once inside, they were surrounded by ecstatic Beks who all seemed to want to shake their hand, clap them on the back, or, in Seth and Mission's case, just start hugging the breath out of them.

It took them quite some time to muscle their way through the throng of Beks and into Gadon's office. Once inside, Seth dumped his burden onto the desk of the gang leader and proceeded to collapse on top of it, breathing heavily.

"Next time sir, you can have the honor of carrying it," he gasped.

Gadon reached into the bag and pulled out the cylindrical object. "Nice work," he praised them. "I'll get my mechanics installing this on our swoop right away." He passed the accelerator to Zaerdra who carried it out of the office.

"Now… about our deal, Gadon," Carth reminded him abruptly.

"Right. I promised I'd let you ride in the swoop race and I never go back on my word. And I'll even go one better, you're going to ride the swoop with the prototype accelerator on it!"

Seth stared at Gadon incredulously. "My alarm for ulterior motives is going off, if I were in you position I'd have my best rider on that bike, so that means there must be a catch, out with it."

Gadon smiled. "Don't worry yourself, as a gang leader you learn to trust your instincts, and you have the look and feel of a racer about you. While you don't have time to practice, you can at least get a feel for the kind of bike you'll be riding." he turned his head towards Mission. "Take him down to the maintenance bay and tell Tor-Fy to give him the basics."

"Can I stay and watch?" she asked hopefully. "I've never actually seen the inside of a swoop bike."

"You can stay Mission, just don't go wandering off, you're not a Bek yet."

Mission folded her arms and scowled. "I don't think I'll ever be." she muttered under her breath, recalling a conversation she’d had with the Vulkars’ top lieutenant, Kandon Ark, before she killed him. She gestured for Seth to follow, and together they left the office.

Gadon turned to Carth and Zaalbar. "And if you two could assist with our other preparations for the race..."

"We're here to help." Carth agreed.

"Thank you, we'll need all the help we can get."

The two turned to leave, but Carth turned around. "Seth is right. You have to be crazy to just let some inexperienced teenager take over your best bike. What's going on here?"

Gadon sighed. "I won't lie to you, we never had time to totally eliminate the instability in the-"

Carth cut him off. "Bottom line please."

The gang’s leader took a deep breath, and Carth just knew he was about to hear something that wasn’t going to make him very happy. "Alright, there is a chance that it could overheat and explode if you push it to hard during the race."

Carth saw red. "So you just let a… _boy_ attempt to race a bike that could blow his still youthful ass to kingdom come?"

Gadon was still calm. "My mechanics are working on the accelerator's stability as we speak. It should be at least a bit safer in the morning. Besides, what other choice to you have?"

"I could ride the bike! I have nothing left to live for anyways except for revenge, and Seth isn't even a man yet!"

"Even _you_ know that’s not your best option. You’re trying to rescue your Commander, and you know for the sake of your Republic your safety is paramount to help her.” At Carth’s still-fuming expression, Gadon pointed out, “Besides, he said he trained at the Coruscant Military Academy. If he could pass those flight sims, he’s going to be just fine on a swoop bike.”

Carth sighed. He’d seen Seth’s marks on the starfighter simulation tests. And while Carth was a talented pilot, one of the Republic’s best, there was a huge difference between his experience piloting dreadnaughts and freighters and the skill necessary to maneuver smaller, nimble craft such as a starfighter or swoop bike.

Whether he liked it or not, Seth was the best rider to put on that bike. Carth took a heavy, shuddering breath at the thought of resting the fate of their Commanding officer, and by extension the fate of the Republic, on the shoulders of a sixteen-year-old boy.

 ***

“How’d you end up with the Beks, Mish?” Seth asked as he followed her down to the garage, descending the stairs and hallways leading into the bowels of the Bek base. The air around them seemed much more moist than the air in the surface. When he’d asked Mission, she had told him that it used to be a water purification plant before it was bypassed by the direct purifiers placed at sea water intake pipes. Even afterwards, water still ran through the pipes in the walls and that was the reason for the condition of the air in the lower levels. The humid air was a small price to pay for the advantages to the arrangement; since they had no problem obtaining cleaning water, they did not have a pest problem that plagued most of the lower city.

“My brother ran with them for a while,” she answered simply, and Seth was certain there was more to the story.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” he gently pressed.

Mission shrugged. “Yeah. His name’s Griff, and I owe just about everything I know to him. Taught me how to pick a lock, how to shoot a blaster, hell, everything I do to scrape by out here he taught me.”

“What happened to him?” Seth asked. By the way she talked about him, it was almost as if he were gone… and he was preparing for some answer of how he’d met his end running with the gangs.

But her answer wasn’t what Seth had expected. “He ran off with some schutta. Lena. She caught his eye dancing in a cantina one night and he followed her right off planet. She didn’t want her to come with, and he said he’d come back for me, but that was six years ago, so I’m not holding my breath.”

Seth took a breath. “Wow. That’s… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, this stuff happens, right?” She laughed humorlessly. “What’s a street urchin without a sob story? So there’s mine.”

Seth put a hand on her shoulder gently. “You’re worth a lot more than getting left behind on Taris, Mission.”

She smiled genuinely, but shrugged his hand away, eyes downcast as a blush crept up on her cheeks. “Yeah, well, we’re here, so let’s stop talking about me and start talking about this race you’re gonna win tomorrow.

They reached the maintenance bay they were greeted by a Rodian wearing grease stained coveralls. As Mission conversed with the alien, Seth studied the bay around him. Swoop bikes lined the walls, some with their engine components exposed, others simply sitting there, waiting to be serviced. Tools were scattered across the many workbenches, the floor and occasionally a hydrospanner was still clenched to an engine component. Draven and Iggy would have loved it here; they used to go mess with the small speeders the drill instructors used in their spare time. Seth wondered what happened to them. He wondered if they were even still alive.

The boy was shook from his thoughts as Mission and the Rodian came over, and he couldn’t have been more thankful for their timing. Those thoughts tended to have more of a downward spiral than up most of the time.

"This is Tor-Fy," Mission said. "She's the head mechanic here. Tor-Fy, this is Seth Avery."

Seth stuck out his hand and the Rodian shook it with a surprisingly firm grip. "[I suppose you want to get started then?]" she asked.

Seth nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Tor-Fy nodded. "[Good. Have you ever piloted anything before?]"

Seth nodded vigorusly. "Yeah, I've only been given the basics, but my CO said I had a knack for it. I was first in my class."

"[That will help you, a swoop bike's controls are similar to a starfighters, minus the weapons systems of course.]" she gestured to the bike behind her. "[Get in, let's see how good you are.]"

Seth climbed into the open cockpit of the swoop and started familiarizing himself with the controls. The Rodian was right; the basic layout was almost identical to a starfighter's, though it did have a few extra controls, such as a shift stick, which, of course, was not needed for a starfighter due to the insertion of a hyperdrive. He started up the engine, but because of the magnetic field Tor-Fy had put in place, it went nowhere, so Seth could get used to the bike without having to take it out onto the street. It roared to life, the noise drowning out Mission's shout of excitement. He turned the steering mechanism right and the bike leaned to the right. He pressed down on the accelerator with his foot and the engine revved loudly. The braking flaps worked as well, opening out on either side of him as he pressed the controls. It was not the hands on training he would have liked, but it would have to do.

He let the engine idle for Tor-Fy to come over. "[So, what do you think?]"

"Does it come in black?"


	5. Down in the Pits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I discover that being a professional swoop racer for a day is alright... up until the moment they actually expect me to _race_.

There really was no 'crack of dawn' in the Lower City due to the towering buildings rising higher than the naked eye could see. Someone standing in the streets of the Upper City would be able to make out the telltale pink horizon signaling the coming sun, but it would be a few more hours before the any rays of sunlight filtered down into the lower streets. It was like the upper towers were miserly hoarding all the sunlight away for themselves, and in that regard they matched their inhabitants perfectly.

Mission chuckled quietly as she watched the mechanics push Seth's swoop bike into its place in the pits with the rest of the Bek bikes. Seth wasn't kidding when he said he wanted his swoop in black, and fortunately, he got exactly what he’d asked for. Gadon had his painters --a must for any racing team-- work on it through the night. It was now pitch black with streaks of orange and yellow lightning running down the bike's two pontoons from the engines. Ninety-five --the bike's number-- was superimposed in aurebesh over the twin bolts. It would fit in with the other bikes just fine. The single difference could only be seen if one were to closely inspect it – a cylindrical canister, small by comparison, hooked up near the main engine- the prototype accelerator. The one thing that could give Seth a chance of winning the coming race. The thing that could explode at any time during that race and engulf Seth’s freshly painted bike in flames. 

With Seth inside.

Gadon had tried to reassure her that there were only the smallest of chances it would explode, but it still boiled down to that one fact: it _could_.

The thought reminding her of the reason she had come down here, Mission cast her head about, brown eyes searching for him. She had been woken back at the Bek base to learn that he’d already left for the track. When they’d arrived at the stadium, she’d left Carth and Zaalbar, who were reserving their seats, to come down here and look for Seth.

She spotted the fearless rookie pilot lying across a stack of crates storing spare parts for the swoops on the far side on the Beks’ pit area. When she came closer, she saw that he was sleeping, not quite snoring but still breathing loudly. He’d shrugged off his standard issue gray jacket and heavy shirt, now left in just a tight-fitting white tank top. Mission had initially wanted to talk to him, but now she was unwilling to wake him. He had a lot of pressure on him, so he was entitled to a bit of sleep.

As she stood there, watching over him, she also noticed that Seth was in pretty good shape as well. His chest and arms bore plenty of well-toned muscles, unlike most boys his age who were still rather gangly. 

No, as he had told her, he wasn't just another teenager anymore. He was a soldier. She wondered if he had seen any combat, and not just ones like the skirmishes they had dealt with in the Undercity and the Vulkar base, but battles she had heard stories about from the few war veterans among the Beks. With the explosions going off all around him, the blaster fire wizzing right past his head, the blood, the death and the uncertainty whether he would live or die. She wondered if he had seen friends killed.

Seth's eyes suddenly snapped open, sitting stock straight up in less than a second. Mission jumped with this sudden movement, then blushed as she realized her eyes had been roving over his body a bit too long.

"Oh sorry, trained reaction," he sheepishly apologized when he noticed the blue Twi'lek.

Mission shook her head, trying to pretend that the embarrassing moment hadn't happened. Maybe he wouldn't notice. "Nah, it's okay,” she brushed off a bit too hurriedly. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "About what? Trying not to get my hide blown into orbit? Yeah, I think the Captain already covered that."

Mission smiled. "No, actually... well, okay. I guess that was the general message."

Seth nodded knowingly, but sighed. "I told you guys, I can do this. You don't need to work yourself into such a fuss."

She looked taken aback. "I am not 'working myself into a fuss!’ I just wanted to make sure you'll be careful."

Another sigh. "All right, I'll be careful and do my best not to get myself killed."

Mission crossed her arms over her chest and looked critically down at Seth. "Actually I was talking about the bike, don’t want you to mess up that paint job," she deadpanned.

He grinned. "Alright fine, I swear by my unparalleled collection of Hevlettica Core-World Tour data disks that I won't scratch the paint job. Oh wait... I guess that kinda went up with the _Endar Spire_." Seth's face twisted with displeasure. "Dang."

"Hevlettica?" Mission asked, suppressing a laugh about Seth's sudden revelation.

"Only the best Mythic-Metal band ever, but anyway..." he pushed himself off the crates and moved to peek out at the grandstands. They weren’t too full yet, as it was several hours before the race’s beginning, but a few die-hard fans had already found their seats and were eagerly awaiting the coming event. "What are the crowds like at the races?"

"Well, they get pretty excited, especially at the Season Opener." Mission gestured to the mostly empty grandstands. "In about two hours, these seats will be full up with screaming fans and there will be millions more watching in the cantinas or wherever the live feed is shown. And they're pretty freaking excited about you, specifically."

Seth looked suddenly flattered. "Why would that be?"

Mission's face on the other hand, was dead serious. "Because humans don't race swoops. The few who’ve tried haven’t had a fast enough response time and have ended up in pieces all over the track. The crowd loves crashes, and you've been unanimously voted to have the most spectacular one."

All traces of humor on Seth's features were wiped away completely with Mission's statement. "I see."

"Look, you don't have to do this, I'm sure Gadon will understand, he can get another one of his riders..." Mission trailed off. Worry had returned to her tone.

Seth locked emerald eyes directly on hers. "Yes," he said, his voice steely. "I do."

Mission gave him a smile and reached into her pocket. "Here, Carth wanted me to give you this." She pulled out a thin chain, a small winged silver star dangling beneath her fingertips. "He says it's a pilot’s good luck charm. Apparently he wore it on his flight exam and passed with flying colors."

Seth considered the charm for a moment before slipping it around his neck with a smile. "Thanks." He opened his mouth, seemingly intent on saying more to her, but was cut off before he’d even had the chance to speak by the sound of his name being called from across the garage. Seth turned his head and spotted Zaerdra waving him over to the other bikes and his fellow Bek riders.

Seth turned back to Mission. "Sorry, gotta go."

She nodded. "Good luck. We'll be cheering for you." She clapped him on the shoulder lightly before turning and walking toward the exit to rejoin Zaalbar and Carth up in the grandstands.

Seth watched her go for a few seconds, then turned and jogged over to join Gadon's bodyguard.

Zaerdra looked Seth up and down with an appraising eye. "Well, first thing's first, we're going to have to get a jumpsuit for you." She put a hand on her chin, considering his physique. 

"He could use Kyudjai's suit," a Twi'lek rider offered. "It should fit him."

"Do you think he will mind?" Seth asked Zaerdra.

She gave him a look. "Dead men usually don't. The Vulkars killed him outside Javyyar's Cantina five days ago."

"Oh," Seth gulped uncomfortably.

"And that's another thing, watch your back on the track, the Vulkars will probably try to knock your bike into the wall and into our other riders."

"This just keeps getting better and better, don't it?"

Zaerdra ignored his sarcasm. "But be sure to return the favor when they do try, and preferably you try it before they do, that's the best way to make sure."

"So, watch out for the other riders attempts to kill me, but try to do them in as well and all the while trying not to get blown into a thousand pieces by my own engines."

She nodded. "In a nutshell, yes."

Seth's head fell back. "Well this sucks," he announced to no one in particular.

* * *

Nearly an hour and half later, Seth was sitting in the cockpit of his swoop. His new racing jumpsuit was rather comfortable, once he’d moved past the rather disturbing fact that its previous owner’s visceral remains were probably only just recently scraped up from the streets of the Lower City. It was a dark grey with red highlighting along the chest, sleeves and legs. The Hidden Bek emblem was proudly displayed on the front and back. 

By now spectators had begun to fill out the grandstands, the low rumble of their thousands of voices audible in the distant background. The other gang's racing teams had arrived much earlier. A line of guard droids kept the team's in their respective areas. They had put the Black Vulkars on the far side of the garage, opposite the Hidden Beks, just in case. However that did not stop them from hurling all manner of insults at each other.

Right now, the mechanics were in the process of performing the last couple tweaks and tune-ups to the bikes before the race. Seth was just trying to stay out of the way, opting to use the time to make some modifications to his swoop bike's sound system. Originally it was supposed to be for the pilot to be able receive and send radio transmissions. But since swoop racers had radios installed in their helmets, the on board system wasn't used. Seth was pretty sure he could rewire it to play the songs stored on his datapad.

He'd had that dream again. It was only slightly different from the last time. The Jedi and the Dark Jedi were still locked in combat. And he, as a little boy, was still cowering in the corner. But this time the Sith Lord was crouching over him, one gloved hand placed on his head. Fear had constricted his heart at that point, and Seth had woken up with a start at the Bek Base, covered in a thin layer of nervous sweat. He’d taken one look at Mission and Zaalbar dozing contentedly in the cots across from him and knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep much. So he’d chosen to join the mechanics team as they journeyed to the swoop track.

The nightmares haunted him. He felt the need to talk to someone about them, but Seth knew that none of his companions would understand. For now he would keep them to himself. He hoped that Bastila would be able to offer at least some small amount of insight, however. After all, she was a Jedi and there were Jedi in his nightmares. He shook the thoughts from his mind for the moment, trying hard to concentrate on the swoop bike instead.

Seth ran his hands back and forth over the controls, getting a feel for them. Mission's words still echoed in his head. 

_“Humans don't race swoops.”_

Except he’d never considered himself a 'normal' human. There had always been a part of him that knew what was going to happen next, a part that often took control in tight situations. It was like instinct; he didn't even need to think. A part of him so inhuman, it wasn't like any other species. The part of him that classified him as a 'freak'. But he knew, that being a freak, as he called himself, had saved his, Carth's, Zaalbar's and Mission's lives many times. And maybe it would be the answer to Mission’s doubtful statement that continued to ring in his head.

His thoughts turned to the twi’lek for a moment curiously. Mission. She was one person that never ceased to throw him off balance. He’d had a sense of certainty about himself when talking to Carth or Zaalbar, but he always ended up self-conscious when talking to her. It frequently confounded him how he seemed so unskilled at socializing with the opposite sex. Even with one from a different species. He didn't know why, but he was determined to find out. Maybe Carth could give him some pointers - according to barracks scuttlebutt, he used to be married. Although Seth wasn't sure it was appropriate to ask his superior for advice on girls.

In combat, he frequently found himself covering her, despite the fact that he knew she could take care of herself in a fight. And she had a certain strength about her, a certain natural ease with her often dangerous surroundings. And although she didn’t wear nearly as much make up as others of her species were known to wear, her face had a unique charm to it that Seth found rather attractive. It had a strange, almost controlling affect on him.

He didn’t want to take things too seriously with a girl he’d just recently met, but the only comparable feeling Seth could remember was one he’d felt with one of the girls back at the Academy. The nervousness had faded in time as he’d gotten to know the girl, but then again, that girl happened to be his first kiss later on down the road. He couldn’t help but link the feeling and the accompanying action, and wondered if it held true for his friendship with Mission.

Seth shook his head, clearing his thoughts. What was he doing? He needed to focus on the upcoming race. He turned his attention back to the swoop. After a quick inspection of the different meters on the control board that measured the vital components of the swoop bike, he spotted a small discrepancy in the measurements for two of the meters.

"Hey mechanic?" he called to the Ithorian who was checking the repulsors in the swoop's pontoons.

The flat-headed alien looked up at him. "[What is it, sir?]"

Seth held up his index finger. "Well first thing, don't call me sir. I'm not any officer yet,"

The Ithorian looked perplexed.

"Never mind, but anyway; you might want to check the power lining."

The mechanic stuck his head in to look at the glowing screens. Seth had to press himself a bit farther back into the seat to allow the Ithorian's broad head some room.

"[No, the meter says the power lining is in good condition.]"

"A correction, if I may. The power lining meter says the power lining is fine, but the engine and power cell meters say otherwise."

The Ithorian glanced at the meters Seth was pointing out. "[I'm afraid I don't understand.]"

Seth sighed, recalling both his short courses on starfighter mechanics at the Academy and his experience with the swoop riders back on Coruscant. "Tell me, have you altered the power lining at all since you installed the accelerator?"

"[No, the meter said it was fine all along.]"

"Have you worked on the engine or power cell?"

"[Just the engine.]"

"Then there you go,” he said, folding his arms and quirking an eyebrow as the Ithorian’s face remained as blank as it had been for the duration of the conversation.

"[I'm still confused.]"

Seth sighed exasperatedly and clambered out of the cockpit, swinging his legs over the side and jumping to the ground. He held his hand out expectantly. "Hydrospanner please."

The Ithorian obligingly handed Seth the requested tool and the soldier slid under the bike. After about a minute of tinkering, he started talking again. "Okay, I've adjusted the power cell to work in sync with the accelerator. What does the meter say now?"

"[It's the same.]"

"Then you've tweaked the engine a bit too much." Seth scooted over to the engine and got to work.

The Ithorian ducked down and brought his flat head near Seth's. "[The engine and power cell meters are rising and the power lining is dropping.]"

"That's because you can't just fix the accelerator to the power lining, the swoop won't react right. You have to fix the accelerator to work in sync with the engine and power cell, and then…" Seth paused to work on the power lining, adjusting components here and there into a different configuration, "…hook the power lining to the power cell and engine." He slid back out from under the swoop and looked at the meters again, all indicating that their respective components were operating a maximum efficiency. "See?" He grinned at the Ithorian, handing back the hydrospanner.

The mechanic looked back at him, and from what Seth could assume from Ithorian facial expressions, he looked pretty shocked. "[That's incredible!]"

Seth shrugged and wiped grease-stained hands on the trousers of his borrowed jumpsuit. "It's what I do."

* * *

In the pre-dawn gloom, it had been hard to appreciate the size of the swoop track. But by now, the sun was shining brightly down on the stadium and the crowd had already filled three quarters of the three-level stadium. The noise of the fans was steadily growing to a jubilant roar.

The shape of the track was no different than the Galactic Standard, with two parallel straightaways connected by a long turn at each end, making it roughly oval-shaped. It had a circumference of nearly five miles and was wide enough to comfortably accommodate over fifty swoop bikes set side by side – more than enough to allow the twenty-one other racers from seven different racing teams room enough to maneuver around each other with ease.

The bikes were being lined up for the start of the race – Seth's pitch black ride was easily recognized, standing out against the other bikes that were almost all painted a number of different, brighter colors.

Seth stood just a few feet away from where the other two Bek bikes besides his own were being lined up, looking around for Carth and the others in the stands. He spotted them sitting in the Bek's reserved section right above their team's pits. Mission was waving her arms wildly, trying to get his attention, and he waved back, acknowledging her. Seth could also see Gadon, with Zaerdra sitting right next to him, eyes unsurprisingly not looking at the track, but raking the crowd around her for any threats to her charge. Mission was trying to yell something that Seth couldn't make out. He just waved again in response.

A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, and Seth found himself staring into the glaring eyes of a Nikto. He had an awful suspicion that Mission had actually been trying to warn him of the threat just seconds before. The rough skinned alien sniffed a few times, then twisted his face in disgust.

"So, you be new rider old Gadon gets," the Nikto said in rough basic, and Seth could tell simply by the way he said Gadon’s name that this was the Black Vulkar rider he’d been warned about one too many times. "Little male huuuuman be stinking of fear..."

Seth didn't flinch. "Redros, I take it?"

The Nikto's lips peeled away from his teeth in a sardonic smirk. "So you hears of me huuuuman? What do others say about me, hm?"

Seth found the way he said 'human' to be quite grating. "Only the truth," he replied with a shrug.

Redros' grin widened. "That I be best rider on Taris?"

"No, that you are a cowardly, illegitimate son of a drooling Hutt and play with bantha droppings in your spare time." he replied casually. "And judging by the smell, I'd say that's pretty darn accurate."

Redros' demeanor quickly darkened, a low growl vibrating in the back of his throat, leaning in enough for their noses to be almost touching. "You talk big for human! You should know why humans don't race in Swoop Circuit – they always crash and burn! Maybe you brain not work so well?"

Seth made a show of reeling back and waving a hand in front of his face. "Yeah? Well too bad my nose works just fine."

The thought that he might have taken it a bit too far came across his mind when the Nikto racer clenched his green fists. "Well maybe me should break nose, as favor!" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips.

Seth's hand reached for his blaster before he woefully remembered he’d had to leave it with Carth. And Redros looked like he was prepared to use his fists. Fortunately, Seth knew he wasn't even remotely helpless in the event the Nikto decided to get violent. He’d trained in Phase 2 hand-to-hand back at the Academy, and was confident he could give the Vulkar a run for his credits in a fight.

"Redros!" A sharp voice whipped both of their heads around, and Seth spotted a dark-skinned human striding towards them. A set of beady eyes, which seemed to be placed just a bit too close together, glowered at both the Vulkar and Seth.

"You know that brawling before the race results in disqualification!" the man shouted in Redros' face. The Nikto's gaze fell to the ground, still fuming but taken down several notches. The Vulkar's apparent boss then turned his attention to Seth.

"You must be Mike Fure, Gadon's new meat," he said, looking down his nose at Seth, who was only half a head shorter than him. Seth and Carth had decided to have Gadon use the alias 'Mike Fure' as Seth’s racing name in case the Sith, who were probably watching the race go down from the Upper City cantinas, had gotten their hands on a copy of the _Endar Spire_ 's crew roster.

"And you must be Brejik, head of the Vulkar gang. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance," Seth nodded his head towards him, remaining polite but still rather curt.

Brejik's expression was one of thinly veiled disdain. "The pleasure is all yours."

Seth's eyes flashed with anger, but he kept an outward calm. The rival swoop gang leader looked over at Seth's bike.

"You are the first human in a long time to attempt this race, you know. I won't be expecting to see you get through five laps, let alone complete the full two hundre-" Seth held up his hand, interrupting Brejik's monologue before it began.

"Well then... _sir_ ," Seth pronounced the 'sir' with borderline derision. "I guess you've got nothing to worry about, now if you'll kindly excuse me, I have a race to win and I prefer to throw my jabs in the winner's circle, not on the starting line."

An amused smirk tugged at the corners of Brejik's thin mouth. "You've got some guts boy, I'll give you that. I'd wish you good luck, but I guess your little blue Twi'lek squeeze already gave you more than your fair share." Seth gritted his teeth hard to prevent himself from taking any action that would result in his disqualification. Redros snorting a laugh at this, Brejik put a hand on the Nikto's shoulder. "Now this rider needs to get ready for the race the Vulkars will win, not the gang who choose a upstart, snot-nose rider with a death wish to ride for them." And with that final barb, he led his rider away from Seth and over to wherever the Vulkar bikes were.

Seth watched Brejik's dark head retreating, eyes blazing. His mind was vividly imagining wrenching the gang boss's head all the way around. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Seth took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He could take a few jabs to his reputation, but when someone belittled Mission, or any of his friends, they had trouble coming.

"Brejik's right about one thing – you _do_ have guts," a feminine voice said from behind him. Seth looked over his shoulder and spotted the two other Bek riders who’d be racing alongside him – a pale red female Twi'lek and a tall male Bith, a Krayt dragon tattooed on the left side of his bulbous head.

Turning to the two riders, Seth shrugged. "No more guts than it takes you guys to do this for a living."

The Twi'lek laughed. "I like you," she proclaimed and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "My name's Livana, and my companion," she gestured to the silent Bith. "Is Go'lung Shrookut. Don't ask for his full name, you can't hope to pronounce it."

Go'lung crossed his arms. "It's not my fault you two don't have the throat muscles my species does." His voice was rough by Bith standards.

Livana draped an arm across Seth's shoulders. "Oh come on, I don't know why you insist on introducing yourself by your full name!" She looked at Seth. "I keep telling him; popularity is not gained through confusing everyone you meet, wouldn't you agree?"

Seth, infected with the Twi'lek's chirpy attitude, couldn't help but smile. "Well Go'long-"

"Go' _lung_." he corrected.

Livana rolled her eyes. "See what I mean? You're confusing this poor boy just with your short name."

Go'lung threw his arms up in frustration. "If the boy can't pronounce my short name, that's his own frakking-" the Bith's rant was interrupted by a voice blaring through the stadium's PA system.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of all species, to Taris and the seventy-fourth season opener of the Professional Swoop Racing League!" The crowd roared its jubilation wholeheartedly in response.

"Go on," Livana pushed Seth gently. "Get to your bike, it's show time!" she was grinning, and he could quickly tell that this was what she lived for.

Seth nodded, his heart rate picking up by the second. "Good luck." He gave them both a quick salute then quickly ran over to his bike, where a mechanic handed him his helmet. Seth thanked him and put it over his head, flipping down the heavily tinted visor.

* * *

Brejik stood next to Redros as the announcer worked his way up the ranks of racers that were competing, squinting his eyes as he looked down the line at the new Bek rider. Why would Gadon waste a spot on his team for this punk? He had no idea, but he knew there must have been something about the boy that Gadon liked, something to make him trust a human’s abilities in the swoop circuit. Brejik knew Gadon was smart, and he knew that his rival wouldn't trust the boy's talent unless he wasn't like the other humans that had attempted to race in the Professional Leagues. And if that were true, that meant he probably stood a good chance of beating even Redros.

Brejik turned to his best rider. "If you don't win this one, you're bantha meat," he growled in warning.

The Nikto looked unfazed. "Why you be telling me this now Brejik?"

"The stakes just got a bit higher," Brejik pointed over at Seth.

Redros smiled confidently. "As you say, he be human and young human too. The race will kill him if I don't first. What be your trouble with him?"

"Exactly the reasons you mentioned; Gadon Thek is no fool, or we would've crushed his gang long ago. The very fact that he trusts this… _boy_ to race for him makes me think he actually has a chance at succeeding."

Redros bared his teeth. "I will not let human _child_ be beat me at what I do best."

"Make sure you don't, if not, I'm feeding you to the Rakghouls…” Brejik leaned in close to his champion's face. “In _bite-sized_ chunks."

* * *

Seth's in-helmet radio clicked on, and he jumped a bit as it crackled with unexpected noise. "[Can you hear me, Avery?]" Tor-Fy's voice crackled in his ear, she was stationed in the pits, ready to do emergency services on the bikes throughout the race if need be.

Seth pressed a button down with his chin to reply. "Loud and clear."

"[Alright,]” she replied with an approving tone. “[They’re going to introduce you soon. Wait for your name to be announced to get into your bike.]" He gave a little salute in the direction of the pits in response.

He took the opportunity to observe a swoop race crowd from trackside, something he’d never gotten to do before. The grandstands looked to be completely full, the entire crowd standing, jumping up and down, and generally cheering their lungs out. Seth was in awe.

"-And representing the Hidden Bek gang: Go'lungolano Shrookut'Skarrowei'Krrykushush-"

As the large-headed racer thumped his chest to the mixture of cheers, Seth found himself agreeing with Livana's previous assessment of the Bith's name.

"-Livana Dameos!-”

The Twi'lek sultrily blew kisses at the adoring spectators and by the sound of it, she had quite a large male following. Seth found that wholly unsurprising.

"-And finally, a rookie on the Bek racing team, indeed a newcomer to the Professional Racing Circut itself; Mike Fure!"

As his fake name was announced, Seth thrust his fists in the air, head thrown back as the delighted roar of the crowd overwhelmed him. Mission was right when she said they were excited about him.

"And representing the Crouching Nexu gang..." The sound of the announcer's voice was tuned out of Seth's concentration as he followed Livana and Go'lung's lead and climbed into the cockpit of his swoop. He threw the lever the closed that canopy, throwing a glance to his left and right, seeing Livana and Go'lung, helmets on, in their bike's cockpits. He gave them the thumbs-up sign, which they returned in kind. Seth's heart was hammering at a breakneck pace now. 

The command to start his engine was given. Reaching across his body, Seth gave the ignition switch a good twist. The twin engines roared to life. His gloved hands held the twin steering sticks in a death-grip. He knew this was probably the most dangerous thing he'd done so far in his entire life. In fact, he was expecting his tragically short life to flash before his eyes. But as it was, Seth only felt a small bit of fear and hesitation that was quickly being overridden by a rush of excitement and adrenaline. He felt as if a swarm of broadwing-flies had made a sudden invasion of his stomach. His senses seemed heightened – he could make out the minute creases in the racing jumpsuit he wore, a testimony to years of use by the previous owner. He could see each small pit and crack in the tarmac of the track.

Seth turned his eyes upwards towards the four lights affixed to a metal strut jutting out over the line of swoop bikes.

"Hey, Seth," Livana said through his helmet speaker. "See you in the Winner's Circle."

Seth didn't know how she managed to sound so relaxed. "Do try and keep up Livana, I don't want to be turning back around to get you." He looked over at the Twi'lek's bike with a grin as he responded. She gunned her engines a bit louder in answer.

Seth turned his attention back to the starting lights, his foot pressing down on the accelerator and revving the engines.

The red starting light brightened.

Seth pressed down the accelerator pedal as far as it would go, the hum of the prototype barely noticeable.

The orange light.

The crowd fell silent, everyone fixing their eyes intensely on the starting line.

The yellow light.

Seth's hand rested on the lever that would switch the engine into gear.

Green light.

In less than a second and with a simple flick of his wrist, Seth's bike leaped forward, rocketing off the starting line at an incredible speed. He felt himself being pressed into the seat by the sheer velocity he was experiencing. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, hardly comparable to the starfighting simulations he’d gone through back at the Academy. He took a hard swallow as the first curve grew closer and closer in distance.

The race was on.


	6. Humans Don't Race Swoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I take on the Taris Season Opener from the cockpit of a swoop bike, which apparently my kind is not supposed to be able to do.

Mission was pretty sure that she was going to lose her voice before the first lap even ended. As soon as Seth’s swoop bike sprung from the starting line, an enthusiastically wild shout erupted from her throat, drowned out by the thundering ovation booming throughout the stadium. Even Carth’s own shouts directly to her right were hardly audible over the noise. She noticed, however, the absence of Zaalbar’s voice, and elbowed the hairy wookiee in the ribs when she realized her best friend had been more focused on a stick of fried Nerf meat than it had been on the race in front of them. He gave a halfhearted roar that Mission was sure had no meaning other than to get her off his back before proceeding to take a gigantic bite from the delicacy.

 

Mission rolled her eyes and turned back to the race, where Seth was approaching the first turn. His black bike faltered a bit as he came into the turn, leaning more towards the outer wall of the track as opposed to the other racers who kept to the inner side of it. The slip-up, although momentary as the black swoop bike swerved back inwards, had cost Seth, and he was bumped back to the rear of the pack.

 

From what Mission could tell, Seth was at about seventeenth place, behind five other swoop gang racing teams. She tried to pay his current placement no mind, however. At the beginning of the race, the bikes were always in a tight group, but Mission knew that the cluster would thin out the more laps the riders took around the track. For now, it was difficult for just about anyone to advance at all. She allowed herself to whoop wildly for her friend as Seth managed to jostle his way up to fifteenth place, however.

 

By the time they’d approached the second turn, Seth had learned to keep his bike closer to the inner wall of the track, and came out of it quite smoothly. Mission marveled at how quickly he was picking up on the strategies of the race. She wondered if it would be enough to help him catch up to the other two Bek riders who were neck-and-neck with Redros for first place as the first lap began to wrap up.

 

She became vaguely aware of Carth’s voice above the buzz of the crowd, but as she turned to him, she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. She mouthed “what?” and Carth tried again.

 

“I was asking how many laps there are?” Carth shouted over the din of the crowd.

 

“Two-hundred!” She kept her eyes on the bikes as she replied, and failed to notice Carth’s jaw dropping in shock.

 

“Why in the good name of the Jedi are there so _many_??”

 

Mission shrugged, still locking her vision on the track, and more specifically the black swoop bike battling through the middle of the pack. “Each lap is only about forty-five seconds or so – it doesn’t really take that long!”

 

“That’s at least an hour and a half!” Carth’s arms were now folded over his chest in indignation.

 

“Just… try to get into the race a little more and time will fly,” she suggested. “Just wait until the first crash.”

 

“Hopefully it won’t be Seth,” he pointed out.

 

“It won’t be,” Mission said confidently. “He knows what he’s doing.”

 

As she tracked the movement of Seth’s bike with her eyes, however, Mission couldn’t help biting her lip nervously and adding under her breath, “I hope.”

* * *

 

Twelve laps later, Seth had finally battled his way into the ranks of the top-ten racers, although he still wasn’t able to advance as quickly as he’d originally hoped. The pack was still cramped and frustratingly difficult to navigate through. Each racing team was working as a unit, trying to advance their riders while keeping their riders at bay. The racers riding for the Black Vulkars seemed to be exceedingly proficient at it, letting Redros take the lead while the remaining Vulkar racers hung back to keep the others bunched up. Seth was finding it difficult simply to maintain the position he’d taken, let alone advance.

 

The rider he’d just passed up, who Seth assumed was a member of the Crouching Nexu gang if he was recalling Mission’s crash course on gang symbols correctly and had properly identified the image of the coiled jungle predator on the bike’s pontoons, was giving him a bit of trouble. Frustrated as he was that a human had been the one to take his position, the rider was trying to retake ninth place by banging into Seth’s bike repeatedly and attempting to pass him. Each time the rival bike’s offending pontoon ground against the side of Seth’s engines, the teen had to immediately make adjustments to keep from spinning out of control.

 

“Come on, I need some help here!” he implored the other Bek riders as his bike was violently jostled once again.

 

Go’lung made a noise through Seth’s earpiece that the boy assumed was the Bith equivalent of a sigh. “We would, but we’re too far ahead and there’s too many bikes. Sorry, we couldn’t get to you even if we could afford to drop six places.”

 

“Have you tried shaking him?” Livana offered.

 

As the bikes curved around the first turn, Seth was granted a small reprieve. Thankfully, everyone was concentrating on hugging the inner wall as closely as possible and avoiding becoming the first crash of the night. As they came out of the turn, however, Seth threw another look back to see the Crouching Nexu bike lining up for another go.

 

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?!” he replied frustratedly, unsure of how many more hits his bike could take.

 

Livana’s response sounded defensive over the speaker. “Well, you could be f-”

 

“[Avery, it’s Tor-Fy,]” the Rodian’s voice cut Livana’s retort, and accompanying sass, off immediately. “[Try looking for a big enough break in the bikes in front of you to fit your bike through. The guy on your tail will have a bloody hard time following you then.]”

 

“I’m going to file that suggestion into the section titled _Easier said than done_ ,” Seth mumbled, but cut his thoughts off for a moment as the Crouching Nexu bike came in again. He sped up just enough for the bike to swerve in behind him.

 

“Tor-Fy,” he restarted with a breath of indignation. “I can’t exactly get through a break if there isn’t any-” Seth stopped himself. After missing his bike, the rival bike had plowed into the swoop immediately to Seth’s right, gouging a chunk out of both their pontoons and sending them both careening sideways to crash into the outer wall. For a moment, they ground against the tall duracrete barrier, sparks showering everything within fifteen feet before losing velocity and slipping out of Seth’s field of vision.

 

The sudden departure of the two racers left a gap in the crush of bikes, and Seth gunned his engine to take advantage of the opportunity before the other racers could. He let out a sigh of relief as his bike broke through the pack of swoops. He heard Go’lung whoop and holler in excitement over the radio.

  
“Nice job kid, I’m impressed,” Livana commended, and Seth could hear the smile in her voice. “Now step on it – we need that bike up here and a hundred yards past Redros.” He wasted no time in complying, pressing the accelerator pedal down to the floor and sending his bike rocketing ahead once more. There were a handful of bikes that had made it past the throng, but they couldn’t hold a match to the speed that the prototype accelerator granted Seth. He passed the closest swoop in seconds, lips curling into a sly smile as the adrenaline flooding through his body nearly doubled in the time it took him to complete the thirteenth lap.

 

Seth had four more bikes to pass before he would catch up to the leading three racers – Livana, Go’lung, and Redros. He was more than ready to settle his score with the egotistical Nikto. Out on the track, the two-ton durasteel racing swoops provided a much more simple and visceral way to resolve disputes than words ever could.

 

The next racer, however, proved much harder to pass, as they tried to block Seth’s advance by sticking directly in front of his bike. Gunning the engines harder still, Seth slammed his bike into the back of the rival racer’s left pontoon, critically damaging his bike’s maneuvering flap. Normally, Seth would have felt convicted at such a dirty move on the racetrack, but the stakes were too high to play by the rules for the entirety of the race. The other rider visibly decelerated, recognizing the fatal damage to his bike’s maneuvering system. However, this did not stop him from gesturing obscenely at Seth as the younger rider pushed past.  


The black swoop was now gunning at a speed that any reasonable person would call “reckless.” And, were he offered the chance to consider the proposition, Seth likely would have agreed with that person.

 

Right now, Seth’s concentration was solely focused on the track. He couldn’t even see the crowd as the faces blurred past anymore – just the permacrete track in front of him. The completion of the fourteenth lap barely registered in Seth’s mind.

 

Another twenty laps passed, then twenty-five, and still Seth lagged behind the leading three. The prototype accelerator worked like a double-edged vibroblade. It gave Seth a definite advantage in speed that was unobtainable by the other bikes, but it was difficult to remain as close to the inner wall on the turns as the other swoops could. It had ended up costing him a frustratingly large margin of distance that he’d needed to catch up to the top three.

  
For the next hour, all Seth could do was chase the leaders, inching closer and closer with the completion of every lap. Behind him, the other bikes were knocked out of the race one by one, due to issues such as mechanical failure, knockout, or simply crashing. There had been a particularly nasty dropout of the latter category recently, happening much too close to Seth for his comfort. One rider had tried to pass Seth on a turn, and ended up throwing his bike into an uncontrolled skid, smashing his bike into the outer wall and blowing into countless pieces in an impressive explosion. It had taken several laps for the automated disposal droids to clear the remains off the track, since every time the bikes looped back around to the crash site, the small floating droids had to lift themselves clear of the looming bikes.

 

By the time the one hundred eleventh lap came, Seth had finally caught up to the leading three, his pontoon just beginning to come parallel to Livana’s cockpit. Go’lung was right on Redros’ tail. Seth was all but putting his foot and accelerator pedal through the steel floor of his bike when, for the first time in an hour, Tor-fy’s voice came through his helmet radio. “[Step on it, Avery, we’re running out of time!]”

 

Now directly next to Livana’s deep blue swoop, he adjusted the power flow to the prototype accelerator slightly, trying to squeeze as much speed as possible from the engines. “I’m working on it!”

 

“Hang on!” Go’lung’s voice came through the radio excitedly. “I think I can pass Redros!”

  
Seth glanced up at the Bith’s bike, and sure enough, Go’lung appeared to be gaining on Redros and was in a prime position to pass. He was slightly in awe of the professional rider, admiring the fact that he didn’t even need the accelerator.

 

But as Seth studied the way Go’lung was passing Redros, something seemed off. It looked far too easy, as if Redros was _letting_ the Hidden Bek rider slide past, and it made Seth’s instincts buzz with alarm. His fears were confirmed as Go’lung passed Redros and left himself vulnerable to what Seth could now see the Nikto lining his bike up to do. The youngest rider shouted a warning over the comm, but it was too late. Redros jammed the reinforced durasteel tip of his pontoon into the presented side of the right engine of Go’lung’s bike, shredding it. A shower of sparks and a gout of flame erupted from the wrecked engine, and the bike immediately lost speed. Redros easily retook the lead.

  
"[Go'lung, give me a SIT-REP! Now!]" Tor-fy ordered firmly, sounding slightly shocked at Redros' bold and unexpected move.  
  
The Bith grunted, the shaky sound of his ruined engine accompanying his voice. "I can't keep going, the right engine’s totaled and the left is overheating. Sorry, but I'm out."  
  
Tor-fy uttered the Rodian equivalent of a discouraged sigh. "[Understood, come on in.]" Fortunately, they were near the pits, so Go’lung was able to bring his bike limping back to the waiting Hidden Bek mechanics.

 

Seth’s frustration and anger with the Nikto rider doubled, coupled with anger at himself for not warning Go’lung about the danger sooner. He vented his pent-up fury by banging his head against the back of the cockpit.

 

"Guess it's just you and me then," Livana's voice was utterly serious, her own ice cold wrath audible in her voice. "Let's get this son of a Hutt."  
  
Almost simultaneously, they accelerated, gaining on Redros' red and orange swoop bike. The remainder of the bikes were almost an entire lap behind them, so they had all the room available to deliver their comeuppance to the Vulkar rider. Seth and Livana clung to his tail like Kath Hounds after a fleeing Nerf. Under his helmet, by the way Seth's teeth were bared, he felt as if he were just that.  
  
Catching up to Redros was an insufferably slow process, taking another ten laps. But as soon as he was in range, Seth swung his bike in to hit Redros'. This act of retribution, however small it may have been, was surprisingly satisfying. He slammed his bike into Redros' again, trying to knock him into the outer wall. However, the elite rider was well versed in the techniques of swoop bike combat. Instead of trying to fight Seth's push, Redros leaned along with it, and decelerated at the same time. The tactic allowed him to slip behind Seth and make the teenager impact the outer wall himself. Seth immediately swerved away from the wall, but still, in a thick line along his bike's left pontoon, the black paint was now scratched and ground off. The impact with the wall had also robbed him of speed, once again allowing Redros to retake the lead.

  
"[Careful Avery!]" Tor-fy cautioned. "[Don't get cocky out there.]"  
  
Seth did not need to be told twice. He had seen over half of the swoop riders that had started the race be disqualified and he had no intention to join their ranks. He knew that he would get his chance to knock that Vulkar into the wall as hard as he possibly could.  
  
While he was unable to rough Redros up, the opportunity to pass him was presented to Seth during the one hundred fiftieth lap. As the Nikto was bringing his bike around the first turn, the Vulkar’s maneuvering flaps seemed to seize up a bit, causing the bike to fail to hug the inner wall as it went around as it had been able to do on the previous laps. Suddenly, a wide gap opened up in front of Seth and he could see, for once, a clean stretch of track ahead of him

  
"Take it Avery!" Livana shouted over the comm. Seth gunned the prototype until it he was sure it was near overheating and his black bike shot into the lead. The pit crew and Livana’s cheers buzzed in his helmet radio.

 

He winced at the volume, but couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as wide as the gap that Redros had left. "Ow! Not in my ear people!"

* * *

  
  
  
Mission was sure she was going to have a sore throat later in the day, but at the moment, she didn't care. After watching Seth trail behind the leaders for over an hour, the entire Bek section fell silent as Redros stumbled, and consequently erupted in wild cheers when Seth finally took the lead for the Hidden Beks. Any booing Vulkar supporters in the surrounding seats was utterly drowned out by the ecstatic roar.

 

She jumped up and down, pumping her fists wildly into the air. Never before had Mission been to a swoop race as exciting as this one, and never before had she had such a personal investment in the race itself. Sure, she always had cheered for the Bek riders and booed the Vulkar riders, but Seth was quickly becoming one of her best friends, and his victory was the second most important thing to her today, aside from his very life.  
  
Still whooping at Seth’s overtaking of Redros, she turned and punched Carth excitedly in the shoulder. He wasn't exactly pleased with that celebratory action; still, even as he massaged the area Mission’s fist had likely bruised, Carth managed to cheer along with the Beks at Seth's achievement. His chest swelled with pride for the boy, and Mission could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Must be the pilot’s charm.”

* * *

  
Eventually, there were only ten more laps to go.  
  
Ten more heart-pounding laps to go and if Seth had thought that keeping lower placing was difficult, holding first place against the best rider of the Black Vulkar gang would be the new defining point for difficulty in the future. He had to somehow keep his bike going at the absolute top-speed, but still stay on the inside of the track when approaching the turns.  
  
Sweat of extreme concentration beaded on the end of Seth's nose. His knuckles were growing stiff and screaming with pain from gripping the steering sticks as hard as he was. So far, his efforts were successful, the distance between him and Redros was growing. Then again, he could attribute some of that success to Livana’s slamming her bike into Redros' when she could. The Twi'lek, realizing that Seth and the prototype accelerator had the best chance of maintaining a lead for the Beks, did her part in ensuring Seth’s eventual victory, even delivering warnings to Seth whenever it looked like Redros could gain on him.  
  
By the time he completed the hundred ninetieth lap, Seth’s confidence had grown considerably. He refused to let himself relax, however.   
  
There were still nine additional laps to go, and he knew that a lot could happen in that time.  
He entered the first turn, bringing his bike so close to the inner wall that if he came any closer, he would start grinding the side of his bike against the impregnable duracrete. Still, the gap between him and Redros was now as large enough that at least two swoop bikes could have fit between them. He allowed himself to take a deep breath. “Focus, Avery. Come on. Nine more. Count the turns.”  
  
The frantic beeping of a system alarm tore him from his forced calm. Seth looked down at the harsh red light on the dashboard, and what he saw filled him head to toe with cold dread. The flashing light signaled a dangerous buildup of heat in the engines, or more specifically, the prototype accelerator.

 

Looking back again, he saw that a bright flame and column of thick black smoke belching out from his right engine.   
  
Frantically, he attempted to vent the heat from the accelerator while still running it. Deactivation now would result in Redros retaking the lead. Ultimately, Seth's efforts were unsuccessful. The right engine failed with a last explosion of flame, and with only one operating engine coupled with the force of the final blast, Seth's bike went into an uncontrolled spin.  
  


* * *

 

In the midst of the rising cheer climbing at an unprecedented rate within the grandstands from a crowd growing in anticipation of the spinning black swoop bike’s impending crash, the Hidden Bek fans could only watch in mute horror. The bike hurtled down the second straightaway at speeds unobtainable even by the prototype accelerator.  
  
Mission felt her throat constrict. _“No, no, no! This can’t happen. This isn’t supposed to happen!”_ she yelled mentally, helplessly watching Seth's swoop spin closer and closer to the second turn where he would crash into the wall. Gadon had told her, no, he had _promised_ her that this was not a feasible possibility, and yet here she was frozen in place as someone she very much considered a close friend rocketed toward certain death.  
  
Beside her, Carth silently watched as well, his expression one he’d worn in the Mandalorian Wars as he’d watched fellow soldiers die.

* * *

  
  
  
The bike was spinning so fast that Seth had to fight his body’s urge to black out form the G-force. Straining, he reached over to the control screen and began trying to reactivate the failed engine.  
  
"[Avery! Do you read Avery?!]"

 

Seth's chin was unable to press down on the button to respond. And even if he could, he found he couldn't even breathe. Black spots appeared on the edge of his vision, and it felt as if a dewback had sat itself down upon his chest.  
  
  
_“Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap!”_ he thought over and over again as he tried to reopen the flow of power to the right engine.   
  
Still, the engine remained silent. Tears of bitter frustration welled in Seth's eyes. As a last resort, he desperately punched the 'Engine Start' button repeatedly while frantically flipping the 'Boost' switch.  
  
Finally, he heard the sound of the engine roaring back to life. It was the sweetest thing he had heard all day. Seth managed to straighten his bike's trajectory just before he hit the wall of the second turn. Pulling the hardest turn he had ever attempted before, Seth couldn't suppress a maniacal laugh of relief and triumph even as the tail end of his bike scraped along the outer wall and left a trail of sparks in its wake.  
  
The spin, however, had cut the distance between Seth and Redros to next to nothing. The Vulkar was now almost alongside him. The younger rider attempted to get the prototype accelerator working again, thankful that it hadn't been completely fried by the overheat.  
  
As they completed the one hundred ninety-second lap, Seth and Redros were racing neck to neck, with Livana coming in just behind them, the first two trying to get the upper hand although Seth was in the lead by a few feet.  
  
The accelerator was stubbornly failing to reactivate according to the commands Seth was entering into the control display. As it was, he and Redros were equal in speed. The Nikto slowly started to swerve over to Seth's bike, edging him closer to the outer wall. If he were broadsided now, he would be ground against it.  
  
"Come on, Avery! You're faster than that, get out of there before he crushes you!" Livana ordered as the Redros’ red and orange bike edged closer.  
  
" _Incredibly_ , the prototype got knocked out by that little spin I took earlier and now I can't get it to freaking reactivate!" he replied. He considered avoiding Redros by braking, but discarded that idea as quickly as it had came to mind. He had come too far to finish in second place now.  
  
Redros' approach abruptly sped up, in seconds he would smash into Seth's bike.   
  
"Ah, screw it," Livana snarled, suddenly thrusting her bike in between Seth’s and Redros’ and ramming into the Vulkar's swoop, thwarting the potentially lethal move the Nikto had planned.  
  
Before Seth could thank the Twi'lek rider, the consequences of her defense of her fellow rider came into play. The bike repulsors on the side she had hit Redros' swoop with were destroyed, causing the entire pontoon to cease hovering over the track and fall to the ground. Seth heard Livana utter a vicious swear in Huttese as her bike twisted sideways and began flipping side over side, twisting the deep blue swoop bike into an almost unrecognizable heap of metal. Unable to maintain the speed Seth and Redros were going at, the wrecked bike vanished behind them.  
  
Seth was silent with shock for a moment. As they entered the first turn, he looked over at where the Bek rider's swoop was being grabbed by a team of disposal droids to be hauled back to the pits.  
  
"[Dameos, can you hear me?]" Tor-fy asked tentatively, concern clear in her voice.  
  
Silence. Seth assumed the worst.  
  
But then the comm crackled back on, static buzzing loudly through it. "Okay... that's one way to get a nasty knock on the head." A relived grin broke though Seth's sober expression. "Sorry kid,” she continued, “it looks like it's up to you."  
  
"No problem,” he replied. "Redros will be complaining about a lot more than a knock on the head when I'm finished with him." Seth turned his focus completely towards the track ahead of him.  
  
His lesson learned, he brought his bike away from the outer wall, banging into Redros' swoop while he was at it, but not with quite the ferocity he had earlier. Redros moved to strike back, but Seth swerved forwards before the Nikto could make contact, firmly gaining the lead.  
  
As the Vulkar had tried to knock his engines out similarly like he had done to Go’lung, Seth knew exactly what to do, veering from side to side, foiling Redros' attempts to line up with his engines.  
  
Seth recalled one of the things his commander had told him.   
  
“Sometimes you don't have time to think. When that happens, just let the battle take over you. Focus on nothing. Use your instincts. Thinking will get you killed.”  
  
And that was exactly what he was doing. His mind was clear; he wasn't thinking, instead using his instincts to dictate his actions. It was a trance-like state. He hardly even registered completing the one hundred ninety-third lap. The sounds of the engines seemed like they was coming from a distance. He no longer saw the cockpit, only the track ahead. He felt the flow of his bike, his mind touching and recognizing every contour.  
  
The ninety-fourth was completed. By now, even his breathing and heartbeat was at a normal, steady rate. The track was simple- straightaway, turn, straightaway, turn, repeat. The movements of the control sticks needed to guide the bike around came naturally now.  
  
His calm finally slipped when he realized that he was on the final lap. His heartbeat once again climbed back up to its excited gallop.  
  
The realization caused Redros to become more desperate in his efforts to regain the leadm and attempts on hitting Seth's bike became much more frequent. An especially hard one was delivered just as they entered the first turn.   
  
Incidentally, this locked the maneuvering flaps they used to navigate the turn to get tangled together, locking the two swoops with each other.  
  
Seth swore under his breath, realizing that every move he made was being countered by the Nikto’s connected bike. Redros was doing the same thing. Seth could hear the metal straining, but it remained stuck together.   
  
While going down the second straightaway it was all Seth could do to keep his bike going in a straight line. Now Redros was also trying the smash Seth's bike into the wall. The battle to keep from losing control again was a battle Seth knew he was losing. He needed to break away from the Vulkar's bike and he needed to do it fast. He longed for the extra speed the prototype had given him in the previous laps. If he could gain enough speed, he could probably break away from the other bike with minimal damage to his own.  
  
Once again, he attempted to reactivate the prototype accelerator, first trying to reroute the flow through the energy lining, next powering it directly from the energy cells. Neither option worked, and he was drawing ever closer to the next turn.   
  
Seth growled with frustration, slamming a gloved fist down on the display screen. "Stupid 'cutting edge' piece of-" he was interrupted by the accelerator suddenly whining back to life, providing a sudden burst of speed.  
  
The unexpected boost turned out to be all he needed. As Seth entered the final turn, he heard a sharp _crack_ as his maneuvering flap tore off Redros'. The Vulkar lost control and crashing into the outer wall of the track in the most satisfactory manner possible.  
  
The next thing Seth knew, he’d flown across the finish line.  
  
Seth pulled back on the throttle as far as he could, slowly coming to a stop. The entire Bek pit crew ran out onto the track and surrounded his bike. Yelling ecstatically, they motioned for Seth to exit the swoop.  
  
He raised the canopy of the cockpit, standing in his seat. The noise of the crowd was one unlike anything Seth had ever heard in his life. Raising the tinted visor of his helmet, he stared at the grandstands, taking in the sight of excited and disappointed spectators all reacting at once. He was certain was that the noise they were making could probably be heard for miles.  
  
Stepping down, Seth was instantly mobbed by his pit crew, who all seemed to want to give him a pat on the back or shake his hand. The other Beks that could make it out onto the track came to add to the crowd surrounding their triumphant rider.  
  
Soon enough, the two other Bek riders managed to muscle their way through the teeming throng to personally congratulate.   
  
Livana only had a few bruises and a thin bandage wrapped around a lekku, and judging by the little Seth knew of Bith expressions, Go'lung looked very happy. Livana's excitement was easier to tell, by the way she was ginning from one red ear to the other. Fortunately after the mandatory hand shake and back-slap, or in Livana's case giving him a crushing hug, they started assisting him through the gathering crowd of congratulatory Beks.  
  
Seth took a deep breath, the truth of his situation finally seeping in.

 

He had won.

* * *

  
Seth finally met back up with Carth, Mission and Zaalbar later in the winner’s circle, catching sight of them as they pushed through the crowd of Beks that had carried him off the track on their shoulders.

  
Seth started to give Carth a crisp salute, but then he remembered that he didn't want to draw attention to his military mannerisms, alongside the fact that he still had his helmet on. "Thanks for the pilot's charm sir, I think it may have helped." He held out the star-shaped pendant, offering it back.  
  
Carth shook his head. "Nah, keep it, you never know when you'll have to race again. And besides, given your performance out there, you probably wore it out."  
  
Mission rolled her brown eyes. "Or, he's just that good."  
  
"[I agree with Mission,]" Zaalbar chimed in. "[You raced well Seth.]"  
  
"And how exactly would you know that, Big Z?" Mission looked up at her Wookiee companion, hands on her hips. "It's not as if your attention was on anything besides the free food you got during the entire race." She turned back to Seth, who had been watching the exchange with no small amount on amusement. "Well I guess you're famous now, you can expect every other girl to be throwing themselves at your feet wherever you go."   


Seth smirked under his helmet. "Oh, trust me Mission, they'd just be after fame by association, not my looks, and that's not cool with me," he joked.  
  
"Oh don't sell yourself short," she replied. "You are kinda cute."  
  
Seth's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so?" He fought back a triumphant grin. His lips quirked up a bit at the corners, however.  
  
Mission rolled her eyes again. "But don't bury yourself in the part either."  
  
He shrugged. "Nah s'okay, I was going for the 'dashing' or the 'stunningly handsome' look, maybe I should grow a beard?" he tapped a leather encased finger against the area where his mouth would be under his helmet, considering.  
  
Shaking her head, Mission smiled at him. "Oh wait I forgot, burying yourself in the part is your calling."  
  
Seth shrugged. "It's what I do."  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by the Duros announcer, who was holding a microphone  and stepping up onto the platform. A camera droid hovered close by as he began speaking. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is the pleasure of the Professional Swoop Racing League to introduce our new champion," he waved Seth up to the stand. "Representing the Hidden Bek gang, Michael Fure!"  
  
It took Seth a few seconds to remember his alias before he waved to the cheering crowd. He could make out his image on the huge display screens placed around the stadium. In the back, he saw his fellow riders waving back at him. Seth felt as if he could do anything.  
  
It was at that time when Brejik stepped up to the platform followed by the defeated Redros and a sizable number of Vulkars following him. Seth waved sarcastically at him and at Redros he held up all his fingers except for his fourth and thumb, which was considered a very obscene gesture among the Nikto. Both Vulkar leader and rider were absolutely fuming at Seth's show of impertinence.  
  
The Duros turned to the newly arrived gang leader. "And here to present the grand prize in person, the leader of the Black Vulkar gang: Brejik!"  
  
Brejik stepped forward and eyed Seth with a mixture of rage, disgust and self-assured superiority. He turned to the gathering. "Before I present the so-called 'champion' of the Beks their prize," he gestured at a nearby cage where Seth could see a tall, brown-haired woman, however her posture was slumped and her head was looking down at the ground, so   
  
Seth couldn't make out her face. "There is something you all must know; the winning rider cheated!"  
  
Seth's head snapped back to the Vulkar leader. "You're a stinking liar Brejik! I didn't know you were such a bad loser!" the crowd laughed at this. Except for the Vulkars, whose collective glower remained.  
  
Brejik looked directly at Seth, wild-eyed. "Your swoop bike was using a prototype accelerator, clearly an unfair advantage! And now because of this blatant show of treachery from the Hidden Beks," he twisted the last two words like a curse. "I am withdrawing our share of the victory prize!"  
  
The Duros spoke again. "You cannot do this Brejik! You cannot withdraw the prize after it has already been won, regardless of whether the winning rider cheated! It goes against our oldest and most sacred traditions!"  
  
The dark-skinned man whirled back around to the Duros. "You old dithering fool! Your dusty, outdated traditions are nothing to me! Nothing! It is time for the future! And I am the future!" he pulled out his blaster and shot the Duros in the head, shattering it like a ripe melon. "Vulkars to me! Kill this filthy Bek! Kill them all!"  
  
Pandemonium ensued as the Vulkars pulled blasters out and started shooting blindly, not caring whether or not it was Beks they hit. Several people in the crowd fell, some wounded, others dead. Seth saw Livana, Go'lung, Tor-fy and the rest of the pit crew who were all fourtuatly the the rear of the crowd, flee for their lives.  
  
Seth dove out of the way as a Vulkar took aim at him, blaster shots lanced through the air where he had stood a second before. Mission, Carth and Zaalbar charged up the small set of stairs leading to the platform. Mission and Carth were firing their blasters at the attacking Vulkars while Zaalbar whipped out a vibroblade and started hacking away at the nearest enemy.  
  
Carth tossed a blaster to Seth who made a grab at it. And missed. Spiraling away, Seth's eyes tracked it until it finally came to rest a few feet from him. He made a dive for the blaster. However, another hand also was reaching for it. A green Nikto hand that Seth saw belonged to Redros. They both grabbed it at the same time. But it was Seth that grabbed it around the handle. Straining against Redros' attempt to pull it away from his hand, he twisted the blaster up until it was pointing at the Vulkar. Seth shot him three times in the stomach. Redros slumped to the ground and lay still.  
  
All around Seth, Beks were grappling with Vulkars, trying to wrestle the blasters out of their hands. Sometimes ta Bek managed to gain the weapon and start fighting back, while other times they would end up shot dead. Bodies were piling up, blood ran of many different species ran together. But the Beks who stood and fought were outnumbered and outmatched by the ferocity of the vengeful Vulkars.  
  
Easily spotted by his signature orange jacket, Carth was holding his own against the swarm of enemies. A blaster in each hand, he downed Vulkar after Vulkar, the gang thugs no match for his military training and experience.  
  
Mission however, was in trouble. She and Zaalbar had become separated by the fighting. Her blaster had been destroyed by a near miss and she had dropped her vibroblade. She was frantically searching for it among the bodies on the ground. A hand grabbed her lekku and pulled her head back until she was staring into the grimacing face of another male Twi'lek Vulkar. She was weaponless and the Vulkar was hefting a vibroblade in a sickly green hand. Ironically, Mission saw that it was her own. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't want to die, but all she could do was watch and wait for the killing blow to be made.  
  
But it never came. In fact, she was very surprised to see the thin blade suddenly jut out from the Vulkar's chest. And appearantly, the Vulkar was too, an expression of utter shock frozen on his face as he toppled forwards. Seth stood a few meters behind the Vulkar, blaster gripped in one hand as he ran forward to grab Striker with the other. Mission knew that he would've had to make his sword curve in midair to hit the Vulkar that cleanly. She didn't know how it was possible, but she was thankful for Seth's special talents.  
  
She pulled Striker out of the Vulkar's corpse and tossed it back to him. He grabbed it and brought it to bear just in time to meet a heavy blow from an enraged Brejik. Seth staggered under the brute force of the strike. He had to block again as Brejik pushed his furious attack, each hit becoming more and more taxing on Seth's defense.  
  
'Use your head Avery!' he told himself, taking a swipe at Brejik's midriff. The Vulkar leader jumped back, the swipe only scoring the silver armor he wore.  
  
"You may pull some fancy moves out on the track wormo," the dark-skinned human jeered. "But in a real fight, you're no match for a real man!"  
  
"When do you think I can get to fighting him then?" he asked flippantly.  
  
Brejik uttered an feral growl and swung at Seth again. This time, his vibrosword broke the end of Seth's much more lightweight sword off and continued until to smashed into the side of Seth's riding helmet. If he had taken it off, his head would now be in two pieces. Brejik took opportunity of Seth's downed defenses and sliced a short but deep cut on Seth's sword arm.  
  
A grunt muffled by his helmet was all that was elicited from Seth. Defiantly, he struck back with Striker, which was now almost a third shorter, slashing and thrusting over and over again at Brejik. He seemed completely oblivious to the blood running down the length of his arm. With one last blow with all his strength behind it, he locked blades with Brejik. It was a test of strength now, each straining with all their might to force the locked blades against the other. Seth could see surprise register on Brejik's face as he found that Seth could easily match him in such a trial of muscles.  
  
"Say your prayers wormo, because the last thing you're gonna see in this-" Brejik was interrupted by a snap-hiss sound and a bright streak of yellow that swept his sneering head right off his shoulders.  
  
Seth didn't get the chance to see who it was, because she immediately set on the remaining Vulkars, her twin bladed lightsaber twirling and dancing through the air as it cut down enemies in droves. Shortly after, every single Vulkar was down.   
  
Bodies carpeted the ground around them. Everyone else had fled the site of the brawl. A strange silence suddenly decended.  
  
However, the silence was quickly broken as the newcomer, the brown haired woman he had seen in the cage earlier, turned to face him. "Well maybe those bloody Vulkars will think twice next time they try to hold a Jedi prisoner."  
  
This must be Commander Shan, Seth realized in an instant. Thoughts of how hot she was were quickly set aside as he struggled to get his helmet off.  
  
"And as for you boy," she continued, her voice becoming as brittle as ice. "If you think you are going to take me as a prize-" she stopped as Seth finally managed to pull his helmet from his head. Bastila's eyes widened. "Wait, I don't believe this you're- you're one of the soldiers from the Republic fleet aren't you? Yes I'm sure of it! How did you end up racing for these swoop gangs?"  
  
Seth immediately fell into his military mindset, becoming straight as a rod in an instant and saluting crisply. "Private second class Seth Avery of the 2902 Infantry Battalion reporting for duty ma'am!" his voice was as clear as it would be on any parade ground.  
  
"At ease Private, we don't have time for this," Bastila waved her hand impatiently. "Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Thank you ma'am." Seth dropped his salute and relaxed his stance. She looked extremely familiar, he just couldn't place her face.  
  
"Bastila! You're alive!" Carth shouted as he ran up to them. "Come on! We need to get out of here before the Sith show up to sort out this mess.  
  
Bastila nodded and turned back to Seth. "The Captain's right, we need to get moving, get you friend and let's leave."  
  
Seth saluted again, turned and waved over Zaalbar and Mission.  
  
Then it struck him, he remembered where he had seen Bastila before.  
  
She was the woman from his nightmares.


	7. Commander Shan Takes Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I find out that serving under Bastila's command is drastically different than serving under Carth's as we search for an opportunity to leave Taris.

“Congratulations, again!” Mission chirped, her grin all but splitting her face in two as she threw her arms around Seth in a crushing hug the moment they returned to the group’s ramshackle apartment. He winced as she aggravated his hastily-dressed wounds, but a short laugh escaped his lips nonetheless.

“Thanks,” he said carefully, masking his discomfort. “I guess it’s time to celebrate, then. Nerfburgers anyone?”

“No.” Bastila’s voice was firm and cutting as she interjected. “It’s time to figure out a way off this planet.”

Seth immediately snapped back into soldier mode, his expression serious. He acknowledged his commanding officer with a two-fingered salute, nodding in agreement. “Yes, ma’am. Any ideas, ma’am?”

Bastila’s glance bounced from Seth to Carth and back again, brow furrowing. “You mean you don’t even have a _plan_ yet?” she asked incredulously. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Searching for you, ma’am,” Seth explained politely, still ramrod straight.

Mission leaned against the wall casually, folding her arms as she observed Seth’s change in demeanor and rolling her eyes. She briefly considered how she’d have responded to Bastila were she in Seth’s shoes, and found a new respect for his composure alongside a bitter annoyance at military protocol. She hadn’t seemed to see much of it between Seth and Carth, due to the casual nature of the relationship between the private and his captain. But this Jedi brought rank-and-file military superiority back into the equation, and Mission did not like it one bit.

“Well,” Bastila said with a breath, “Now that I am once again in command of this mission, perhaps things will begin to run more smoothly.”

“What did you have in mind?” Carth asked from his half-sitting position on the workbench.

Bastila hooked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, frowning in consideration. “Well, I don’t have any sort of plan as of yet,” she admitted, almost painfully, “but I trust the Force will reveal next steps to us.”

Carth straightened at her response, frowning. “Hold on,” he argued. “We can’t just put our faith blindly in some Force that only one of us can exploit. We need to be able to rely on something more solid than that.”

“Captain Onasi, do not forget that this is _my_ mission,” Bastila rebuked sternly. “I am your commanding officer, and I expect you trust that my decisions are made for the good of the mission.”

“Ma’am,” Seth interjected, “if you don’t mind my pointing out, we’ve managed to make our way on this planet pretty successfully so far, and we didn’t have to fall back on the Force at all.”

The Jedi turned on Seth, a chastising glare painted across her features. “I do not remember asking your opinion, _private_ ,” she told him, emphasizing his rank.

Seth promptly shut his mouth, his gaze falling to the ground. “Understood, ma’am.”

Mission wondered as she stood silently against the wall if Bastila could feel the glare she was focusing on the back of the Jedi’s head.

Carth shook his head in an obvious attempt to shake away the anger and remain level-headed in this conversation. “Bastila, I know you’re new at this,” he started, gently but sternly as Mission imagined a father might discipline his child, “but a commander doesn’t order her troops around and rebuke them when things start going south. You should at least consider listening to the input of your men."

This seemed to get through to Bastila, her demeanor starting to soften. She sighed heavily. “I… I _apologize_ , Carth,” she said, as if the words were difficult to even muster the courage to say. Mission wondered if it was because she wasn’t used to being wrong often, or if it was the fact that despite her military superiority over Carth she still had to rely on his wisdom in her youth. “The last few weeks have been very trying for me.” She paused to look about the room for those whose opinions she hadn’t heard yet. “Zaalbar, what are your thoughts?” she inquired when her gray eyes settled on the stoic Wookiee.

“[I don’t know Taris well enough to provide any insight,]” he rumbled. “[Unless you need someone threatened, or a door kicked down, I’m not of much use.]”

Bastila gave him a curt nod before turning toward the young Twi’lek who, until this point, had been observing the conversation with little interest other than analysis of their new companion’s character. “And you, Miss Vao?” the Jedi asked.

Having finally been called upon, Mission pushed off the wall, shrugging. “Don’t look at me. Not even the _Ebon Hawk_ can make it through the blockade without getting slagged, and that’s the fastest ship in the sector.” She flopped down onto the spare bunk, lekku splaying out beneath her. “I guess, to evaluate your needs here, you have to find a way to get your hands on a ship, and more importantly a way to slip past the orbital defenses without getting blasted into oblivion. Just to narrow down your objective from something as lofty as simply _escape Taris_.”

Bastila’s eyebrows rose slightly, and Mission had to fight back a smirk at the Jedi’s apparent surprise that she had anything of value to offer to the conversation. “Agreed,” she said slowly. “Very astute.” Her eyes passed over Mission and landed yet again on Seth. “And you, Private Avery?”

He shrugged. “Honestly ma’am? We have our end goals in mind, just as we did when we were looking for you – to find a ship and a way past the quarantine. When Carth and I started on our search for you, we didn’t lay out any sort of detailed plan. Things just fell into place and worked out much better than anything we could have ever tried to plan. Even made some new friends committed to the cause,” he gestured at Mission and Zaalbar to illustrate his point.

She nodded. “Like I said earlier, I trust that the Force will reveal to us our next steps.”

“Well,” Carth interjected, clapping his hands together. “We all agree that our objectives are to find a ship and a way past the Sith defenses. Let’s get to it, people.”

“Yes, sir.” Seth nodded.

“Private Avery?” He perked up at Bastila’s prompt. “Would you excuse the Captain and I?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He saluted and strode from the sparse apartment without another word, his movements practiced and crisp like a machine. Carth and Bastila began to speak in hushed tones that, from what Mission was able to pick up, seemed to be a discussion – or rather, an argument – over where to begin their efforts. Uninterested in listening to the two adults bicker, Mission levered off the bunk, heading off in the direction Seth had gone.

It took a few minutes of wandering the hallways of the apartment complex for Mission to realize that the boy had ventured outdoors, leaning against the railing of the platform just outside the front door of the complex. She silently joined him, resting her elbows against the railing and cupping her chin in her palms. Seth acknowledged her presence with the slightest of nods her way. His short brown hair fluttered in the breeze, catching the late afternoon sun as he faced the sea of unknown personified in the sprawl of buildings that made up the Upper City. She was content in the quiet, simply content in just _existing_ together with this boy she'd grown so fond of. They remained that way, quietly enjoying one another's company, for what seemed like hours.

"You don't have to stay, you know." Seth's words finally broke the still waters of silence.

Mission, startled by his statement, pulled her eyes from the Tarisian skyline to meet his. "What?"

"You've already done what we agreed on, and more. You and Zaalbar got us into the Vulkar base and we got Bastila back. You can go back to your regular, normal life if you want. Back to doing whatever it was you did before you met us."

A few questions buzzed through Mission's mind in response to his sudden interest in her own plans for the future, but only one slipped through her lips. "What if I don't want to?"

"I mean... I don't know. Your choice, I suppose, but-"

"You want me to leave? Is that it?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Hell no," he insisted, turning to face her fully. "Honestly, your company is as much a breath of fresh air for me as it is vital to our operation here on Taris. But we're going to come to a point where Carth, Bastila and I have to board a ship and leave Taris, probably for good. You've spent your whole life here; I can't expect you to come with us. And the longer you stay to help us, the harder that goodbye's gonna be."

She shrugged. "You heard Kandon Ark back at the Vulkar base. I've been working for years to be invited to join the Hidden Beks, because it's the only place I've really felt like I could go, but I'll never belong there. It took being a part of something bigger - helping you guys - for me to realize that I have more options for my future than just the Beks. And I have more options than just Taris. It'll always be home, but it's about time I got out and saw the galaxy."

"What about your brother?"

Mission sighed, returning her gaze to the city's skyline. "Honestly Seth, I've gotten real tired of waiting around for Griff. I don't really know if he's coming back. For all I know, he and Lena are chasing spice along the Corellian Run."

"And Zaalbar?"

She chuckled. "Wookiee life-debt, remember? Wherever I go, he comes with."

"Well, can't say I'm disappointed to keep you around while I still can." Seth smiled, reaching his hand across the railing and hovering it above hers for a moment of hesitation before threading his fingers with hers gently. She felt her heartbeat pick up the pace just a bit as she tried to force the blush from her cheeks. "You're serious about this?" he asked solemnly. "You really wanna hop on a transport with us and escape to... wherever?"

She nodded, withdrawing her hand in fear of coating his in her own nervous sweat and instead choosing to grip the railing. "Until you all get called back to do whatever the Republic needs from you, yeah. At that point, maybe Big Z and I can start small, save up some money and start running the space lanes. Make a trip back here to Taris for a visit every once in a while."

He laughed. "Until my tour of duty's up, I've got an empty apartment back on Coruscant that needs looking after, if you and Zaalbar need a home base in between adventures. As long as you don't mind me stopping by every once in a while and crashing there while on leave."

Mission smiled. "I'd really like that."

Seth flashed another grin at her before turning to face the cityscape again, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. Mission couldn't help but smile herself, for the first time in her young life excited for what the future had in store for her.

____________________________________________

In the days that followed, everyone spent most of their time outside the apartment complex in search of either a way past the quarantine or a ship to get them there. The only member of the group who decided to remain at their base was Zaalbar, who preferred to avoid the ostracism of the Upper City and stay indoors with the other illegal alien residents of the complex.

Seth and Bastila, who usually got back to the apartments before Carth and Mission, would often find the towering Wookiee hunched over some new piece of tech he'd built in an attempt to pass the time, using spare parts the group brought in from their daily searches. Sometimes it was a new type of grenade, or a modified blaster, but the group always found uses for the results of Zaalbar's mechanically-oriented pastime.

It was in the late afternoon of the fifth day in a row of fruitless searching that an opportunity finally presented itself. Seth leaned against the wall just outside their apartment, polishing his blaster meticulously while he waited.

"Commander Shan?" he called quietly, rubbing at a spot of tarnish along the barrel of the gun. "Are you coming, ma'am?"

"One moment, Private," came her muffled voice. "Have some patience."

He let out a quiet growl of frustration, keeping his voice low under his breath. "No can do, ma'am. Fresh out of patience for the week."

At that moment, Seth heard movement behind him - heavy footfalls approaching at a rapid pace. His hand tightened around his blaster as he turned about to face the newcomer.

A Twi'lek man ran up to him, stopping a few meters short and breathlessly waving for Seth to put his blaster away. Sensing no danger, the young man holstered it and glanced down at the flagging alien curiously.

"You..." the Twi'lek began before he was forced to take another gasp of air. He wiped droplets of sweat from his green-skinned forehead and composed himself for a moment before continuing. "You are the Taris Swoop Champion?"

"Who wants to know?" Seth asked warily, his hand still resting on his holstered blaster. He'd been approached several times since winning the race, often by swoop enthusiasts wanting his autoprint and occasionally by disgruntled fans of the sport who called him a fluke of a champion. He didn't know if this man belonged to the latter group or not.

The Twi'lek held up his hands. "I know what you're thinking; I'm just another crazy fan wanting an autoprint. Trust me, I'm not. I have a message from Canderous Ordo." 

"Candy-who?"

"Can-der-ous Or-do," the Twi'lek laid out for him slowly. "Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't know who he is!"

Seth squared his shoulders defensively. "Well I haven't exactly met him."

"He's a Mandalorian mer-"

"A Mandalorian!" Seth exclaimed, and he silently cursed at himself for the nervous break in his voice.

The Twi'lek nodded solemnly. "Oh yes, and a very vicious one at that. And he works for Davik." He cocked his head to the side. "You _do_ know who Davik Kang is, don't you?"

Seth chuckled uneasily. "Oh yeah. Him, I've heard of. What does this Candy- Candari- Cano-" He gave up exasperatedly. "What does he want?"

"He didn't say, only said to meet him in the cantina a few blocks down. You know the place?" At Seth's affirming nod, the Twi'lek warned, "Given that he is a Mandalorian, and his connections to Davik-"

"I wouldn't want to keep him waiting," Seth finished for him. The Twi'lek looked pleased with his comprehension. "Thanks for the message," he said, tossing the man five credits. "You don't know where I live."

When he was sure that the Twi'lek had gone, Seth ducked back into the apartment.

"Commander Shan?" She glanced up at him, raising her eyebrows in permission to speak. "I've just received an invitation. It seems pretty promising, ma'am. Permission to go?"

"What sort of invitation, Private Avery?" Bastila asked, dubiously crossing her arms as if she suspected he was trying to sneak out to a clandestine party.

"I was just approached by a messenger working for one of Davik's men, ma'am. A Mandalorian mercenary."

"A Mandalorian?!" Carth exploded from behind Seth, who jumped in surprise at his commander's sudden appearance before stepping aside to let the man through the doorway. Zaalbar and Mission followed closely behind him, the latter playfully socking Seth in the arm as she passed.

"Yes, sir," Seth affirmed, rubbing his arm and sticking his tongue out at Mission while his commanding officer's back was turned. "I was just telling Commander Shan that it seems promising."

"How?" Anger flashed in Carth's whiskey-colored eyes as his fingers curled into a fist at his side. "How could going to meet with one of those brutes be _promising_?"

Seth hesitated in the face of Carth's reaction. "I'm not sure, sir. I just have a gut feeling, and I'm rarely wrong when I rely on my gut, sir."

"Like when you feel it's necessary to eat a third of our food?" Mission offered, her wit going unnoticed by the soldier and his officers.

Carth eyed Seth skeptically. "Well, I'm not for it."

"I'll agree that it's risky," Bastila ventured thoughtfully, "but if there is a chance that we might glean something beneficial from this, at this point I fear we must take that chance." The captain crossed his arms over his chest in mute disagreement, an action that did not go unnoticed by the lady Jedi. She turned toward Carth, hand on hip. "Since _you_ feel so uneasy about this, perhaps you should stay here while Private Avery and I meet with this Mandalorian, whoever he is."

"Canderous Ordo," Seth told her.

"An Ordo?" Carth mouthed, more perturbed than ever.

Bastila tapped her fingers against her thigh in impatience. "It's settled, then. Carth will stay here with the others while Private Avery and I go find out what this Canderous wants."

"Fine by me, but don't make any rash decisions without bringing me into the loop," Carth ordered. "And get the hell out of there at the first sign of trouble."

"How will we be able to recognize him, ma'am?" Seth asked curiously. "Neither of us has seen him before."

"We'll find him, Private," she assured him. "Or perhaps he will find you."

"Somehow that doesn't comfort me."

Bastila ignored his quip, pulling on a long hooded cloak to help shield her face from unfriendly eyes and striding through the door of the apartment with a simple wave of her hand to beckon Seth to follow. He chuckled nervously, quickly donning his cargo vest and giving the others a short wave and salute before following his commander. By the time he'd closed the apartment door behind him, Bastila was already near the end of the hall, her dark cloak flapping behind her as she strode confidently forwards. He had to jog for a bit to catch up with her.

"Private Avery?" she asked when he finally fell into step next to her.

"Yes, ma'am? Something you want to talk about?"

A dark eyebrow rose when she looked at him, somewhat surprised at his astuteness. "I would. I'm curious about your presence at the swoop race. Thankful for it, don't get me wrong, but still curious. What exactly were you doing there?"

"Rescuing you, ma'am," he responded matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I'm well acquainted with your... rescue attempts," she said, as if slightly amused. "But it couldn't have been easy for you. I highly doubt there were flashing signs pointing you in my direction, yet somehow you managed to pinpoint my exact location within this vast city and ended up at the swoop race. You crash-landed in the Upper City, made your way to the lower levels of the city, determined I was a Vulkar prisoner, and found a way to help the Hidden Beks win the race, _and_ became the Taris Swoop Champion to boot. That's quite the resume, and all at the age of seventeen."

"Sixteen, ma'am," he clarified.

"No difference. The point that I'm trying to make is that _you_ , Seth Avery, are a very talented individual."

Seth couldn't suppress a grin at his commander's praise. "Thank you, ma'am. But I did have a good team alongside me."

She gave him a small smile, the first genuine one he'd seen since meeting her, and laughed. "While I appreciate your humility, Private, it's clear that you were the ringleader here, despite the fact that you were following a commanding officer. I've spoken to Carth. It was _you_ who gained access to the Lower City, _you_ who set up a meeting with the Hidden Beks to determine my location, _you_ who remarkably won a race that no human has ever won in the history of the sport. A Jedi could have done such things easily by relying heavily on the Force, yet here you are, just a Private in the Republic Navy."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I think you're underestimating us non-Force users," he countered.

Tilting her head towards him, Bastila acknowledged his point. "Perhaps. But there are also some outside of our ranks that the Jedi Order consider to be 'Force Sensitive.' I have a feeling that you may operate under a degree of such sensitivity."

He stopped in his tracks. "Hold up," he said skeptically. "I can't use the Force!"

Coming to a halt several paces in front of him, Bastila peered back at him from under her hood, grey eyes almost luminescent against her shadowed face. She wrung her hands as she cast her gaze to the ground. "I'm... I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn. This is a matter strictly for the Jedi Council to resolve. Let us focus on our mission for now, and cast aside this distraction. If you wish, we may discuss it further once we've safely made our way off Taris."

As they began to walk again, Bastila a few paces ahead of him, Seth shook his head. "Cast aside this distraction, sure," he muttered under his breath. "Because I can do that when you drop the 'You can use the Force' bomb."

If Bastila heard him, she made no sign of it.

____________________________________________

Mission sighed heavily as she sat on the end of the apartment's workbench, swinging her legs idly. Seth had departed with Bastila not fifteen minutes earlier, and she was already bored. Not that it was a foreign concept to her; Seth had been at Bastila's side since her arrival into their little group, often splitting off with her to do reconnaissance while Carth split off with Mission and Big Z stayed behind to hold down the fort. While she understood his admiration for his commanding officer, Mission couldn't help but feel ill at ease with all the time he spent with her. 

It was not that she didn't like spending time with Zallbar and Carth. After all, Big Z was her best friend, and Carth had recently, in their time working together as a duo, stepped into a role of encouragement that reminded her of an older, more responsible Griff. But Seth was different in that he understood her. He'd lived her experiences. He knew what it was like to practically have been raised by street-smart gangsters, because he had been. He knew what it was like to wonder what his parents were like, because he'd never known his. Seth understood what it was like to be a teenager living in a war-torn galaxy because he was one.

And perhaps she just missed his camaraderie. Before Bastila had come, the two had usually passed the time between moments of action talking to each other, Seth often trying to induce a giggle with one of his cheesy jokes. But ever since the Jedi Commander had joined them, Seth hardly had any time to spend with her. He spent his time taking orders from and running errands for Bastila, hardly realizing that he'd seemingly become her personal slave just because of rank. Mission shook her head to herself. The Republic could send him to boot camp, give him a Private's insignia, shove a blaster in his hands and call him a soldier, but he still wasn't even a man yet. Not really.

"Bored?" Carth burst Mission's bubble of silent isolation and melancholy. He reclined on one of the apartment's two bunks, an eyebrow quirked at her as he made eye contact from across the room.

She shrugged. "I guess."

The Republic Captain sat up, brushing stubborn bangs from his eyes. "He sure livens things up, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," she replied, making a half-hearted attempt to keep her voice light and cheerful.

Studying a frayed point on his heavy pants, Carth didn't look up as he spoke again. "Bastila's way too old for him, Mission."

Her eyebrows shot sky-high at the statement. "W-what?"

"Seth's seven years younger than Bastila; she's too old for him. Well, at least until he's an adult, in which case I suppose it doesn't matter."

"And why the hell would I care about that?" she asked, a bit too defensively.

"I may be older than both of you and out of touch with how kids do things these days, but that doesn't make me stupid. I can see what's going on between you two."

Carth's words sent Mission's verbal composture careening off-balance. "Wh-... I-... We-..." She struggled to form words. "I-... I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Yes you do, Missy," Carth pressed. "It's not something to be afraid of. I was wondering myself how long it would take for something to develop between the two of you."

Blue cheeks darkened. "Me and _Seth_?!" Mission exclaimed incredulously. She couldn't believe her ears. "We're friends, not lovers!"

"Well, not yet at least," Carth muttered under his breath. Mission guessed he didn't mean to be heard, but her ears still caught the words. Her cheeks darkened even further.

"I'm fifteen, Carth! I wouldn't know what love was if it slapped me in the face."

"Well, it's a good thing, I can tell you that much."

"I don't care!" she squeaked, voice weak. "You said the fate of the galaxy is at stake with your mission, and you're here giving me advice on how to pursue a... a relationship-" the word came out of her mouth like a wholly foreign work, "-when I'm probably too young for one!"

"Mission Vao actually using her age as an _excuse_?" he chuckled. "You've said it yourself, you're no kid."

She tucked her legs up against herself defensively. "I know that!" she snapped. "But he'd also never see me that way, so your point is moot."

"Don't be so sure. You don't see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching."

A scowl wrinkled Mission's forehead. "And what makes you think you're suddenly a master matchmaker?"

"I'm not," he admitted, "but it doesn't really take a master in this case."

She sighed in exasperation and slumped her shoulders. "Well, he _is_ nice. And funny. And rather cute..." Mission snapped her mouth shut as she realized that she was confessing these thoughts aloud. Frowning, she jabbed a finger at Carth. "And what makes you think I have any _special_ feelings for him anyway?"

Carth just shook his head, hiding a smile.

____________________________________________

"Hey, kid!"

Seth's head snapped about when he heard the gruff voice, spotting a tall, muscular man half-illuminated by the poor cantina light, sitting at a circular table near the wall. Realizing that Bastila had likely been right in her assumption that this Mandalorian would find him first, he touched the commander's arm to get her attention.

"I think he's our guy," he whispered in her ear, pointing him out.

Bastila nodded from under her hood. "Yes, I believe you're right. I hope he's not planned anything foolish." Her arm shifted under her cloak to where Seth knew she kept her lightsaber. Suddenly, the promise of Bastila's defense lifted the anxiety of meeting with this man right off his shoulders.

They approached him cautiously, hands straying close to weapons just in case they were needed. When they came to the man's table, Seth was able to make out more of his face and fought a wince of apprehension. He seemed larger than life up close, with scars crisscrossing his chiseled face and steely, shaded eyes glancing up at him beneath graying eyebrows.

The man took a thick cigar from between his teeth. "You Mike Fure?"

Seth was caught off guard for a moment as he remembered the identity he'd assumed as a swoop racer, but quickly recovered. "Yep."

"I see," he said curiously, rolling the cigar between his thumb and forefinger as Seth and Bastila pulled out seats across from him. "Now, how about your real name?"

"Excuse me?" Seth sputtered.

He laughed. "Kid, when you've been working with the scum of this galaxy as long as I have, you learn to pick up when a rookie is using an alias." Leaning back, he added as an afterthought, "You hesitated when I asked your name. There can't be any pause."

"I'll keep that in mind," Seth muttered through clenched teeth.

"Very good. Now, how about we start over. My name is Canderous of Clan Ordo, as I'm sure you know. And you are?"

Crossing his arms defiantly, Seth leaned back in his seat. "Seth Avery."

"Seth Avery," Canderous repeated, laughing a bit at Seth's forced composure. "Oh, I'm gonna like you, kid."

Seth shifted uneasily. "Um. Thanks."

"Cut to the chase, why are we here?" Bastila stepped in, hijacking the conversation much to Seth's relief.

Canderous turned his gaze to Bastila, eyeing her up and down as if he'd only just noticed her. "First off, gorgeous, I never asked for a 'we.' I didn't think Avery would drag his mother along."

Seth expected Bastila to let Canderous have it. He was surprised when she didn't show any outward reaction, remaining cool under fire and living up to the widespread reputation of the Jedi knights. In fact, her voice was quite even as she responded, "I am not his mother."

Dismissing Bastila and turning back to Seth, Canderous continued, keeping his voice low enough to keep their conversation private from eavesdropping ears but just loud enough that the two didn't have to strain to hear him over the music. "Look, I know you've been poking around, searching for a way off-planet. A lot of people have. And I've just about had enough of Taris to last a lifetime as well. So here's the thing - I want out, you want out, everybody wants out, right? The difference here is that I have a way to get my hands on a ship with plenty of room to spare in its cargo hold. I just need a little something in return."

"Like what?" Seth and Bastila asked in unison.

"Information retrieval. A job I think you're perfectly suited for. You see, no ship makes it past Taris' atmosphere without the Sith departure codes, and they're locked away in the military base. I figure if you're crazy enough to race the way you did, and you can handle yourself as well as you did in the brawl afterward, breaking in there and snatching those codes should be a piece of cake."

"What?!" Seth squeaked.

"You heard me."

Holding up his hands, Seth shook his head vigorously. "No way. The Sith will outnumber us twenty to one!"

"Us? This is your end of the bargain. There won't be any 'us' involved. You get the codes, and I get you a ship. That's how this will work."

"How will you get a ship for us?" Bastila asked quizzically.

"Nah ah," Canderous stonewalled. "Not yet. You get those codes first, and then I'll let you in on the details."

"But how are we going to get in?" Seth asked incredulously. "It's not like they're just going to let us walk in. And slicing that door would be nearly impossible."

" _Nearly_ impossible," Canderous agreed. "But not impossible. Davik is having a droid made specifically for getting into that base. As top-of-the-line as utility droids can get. All you need to do is head over to Janice Nall's droid shop, tell her I sent you for T3-M4, and she'll sell you the droid."

"I didn't really get the chance to collect any winnings from the swoop race what with that brawl that broke out, so my wallet's a little thin," Seth admitted. "How much will this droid cost?"

Canderous shrugged. "Only about two thousand credits."

"Two bantha-spacing thousand?!" Seth shouted, causing several bar patrons to look their way.

The Mandalorian leaned forward, twisted the collar of Seth's jacket in his fist, and dragged the boy halfway across the table. "Shut up, di'kut!" Canderous snarled in his ear. "Sith hang out here, you know! I'll give you the money, but you had better come back with that droid, or the only way you leave this planet is in a body bag." He released his hold on Seth's jacket, and the boy scrambled back into his seat.

"I... uh..." Seth stuttered.

"It's a deal," Bastila agreed.

"Glad to hear it," Canderous said, friendly again. "When you have the codes, meet me in Javyar's Cantina in the Lower City. I'll be waiting."

The two stood, nodding at the Mandalorian before making their way towards the cantina's exit.

"Well," Bastila mused as they walked. "I'm glad we decided to move forward with your hunch, Private Avery. That went rather well, don't you think?"

Seth, still shaking from being hauled across a cantina table by a feared mercenary, merely nodded. He hadn't soiled himself in the process, and that was about as well as he could have imagined the conversation turning out. "Yep," he said with a nervous laugh. "Went great."


	8. Old Faces, New Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shan leads the gang in infiltrating the Sith Military base alongside our brand new astromech droid, T3-M4, and I meet someone familiar while there.

T3-M4 beeped cheerfully as it rolled alongside Seth through the crowded streets of Taris. The soldier grinned down at the little droid, its chirpy demeanor enough to make him a bit more comfortable with dropping nearly half of the party's collected earnings on it. "Glad to be out of that shop and seeing the sights?" he asked, and the droid chittered affirmatively.

Mission glanced back at the two from where she and Carth were leading the party to the Sith military base and smiled. "You're already a great addition to the team, T3. You'll fit right in." She slowed her pace, dropping back to fall into step beside Seth and the droid. "Unlike the one with a personality more rigid than Upper City fashion," she added, motioning toward Bastila, who was a good fifteen meters ahead of the group. T3 emitted a mechanical snicker at the quip.

Seth grimaced, uneasy. While Mission and Bastila had made it no secret that neither of them was fond of the other, it still made him uncomfortable when his closest friend spoke ill of his commanding officer. "Hey, Mish, take it easy. This _is_ her mission, after all."

Mission shrugged. "You may have to look up to her as a leader, but I don't have to – I'm not part of your military hierarchy. You gotta _earn_ the right for me to follow your lead, and she hasn't really done much to inspire leadership. I don't know how you deal with it."

He was caught off-guard by the comment. "I… Well, in the Republic military, the Jedi Padawans working alongside us are given the title of Commander, and you follow orders if rank demands it. That's just how it works."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it?"

"Someone who's just barely completed enough training to be sent out on their own as a Jedi… the lowest rank of the order, taking charge and running the show when you've got a veteran like Carth who's probably seen more of war than she's seen of the entire galaxy. Does that not seem unfair to you?"

Seth frowned. "Well, I mean… That's just how it is. It doesn't really matter if I think it's fair or not."

She let out a groan of frustration, balling her fists up in irritation. "Ugh, you can be _such_ a pain when you go into soldier mode!"

"Mission, I _am_ a soldier!" he defended. "I don't have to go into a 'mode,' it's just who I am."

The Twi'lek laughed dryly. "Seth, I may have only known you for a month, but I know as well as you do that that's not who you are. The Seth I know is a fixer and a problem solver, and he wouldn't just roll over and accept that things are the way they are if he recognized that there was a flaw in the system."

He clenched his jaw for a moment, realizing that she wasn't far off in her assessment of him. His pride, however, refused to allow him to back down, and he jabbed a finger at Mission angrily. "Well, like you said, you've only known me for a month. Who's to say you even know the real me at all, huh?"

He almost instantly regretted it as chestnut eyes clouded over first with hurt, then with anger. "Oh, I know you, Seth Avery," she spat, venom in her voice. "And you're lying to yourself if you believe otherwise, but let's be honest, we both know you don't believe that."

Seth opened his mouth to respond, perhaps even apologize, but he snapped it shut for fear of worsening the situation. They followed Carth and Bastila to the entrance to the military base in silence, and when T3 finally got the door open, Mission strode past Seth into the turbolift without so much as a glance in his direction.

****

"So, where to next?" Carth asked, watching the Sith's Twi'lek secretary sprinting down the hall to the elevator to Taris' streets with no small amount of amusement. For a woman working at a military base, she was remarkably unprepared to deal with armed intruders, and it had taken simply the brandishing of their weapons for her to leave them to their business.

Mission stepped out from behind the now-unmanned front desk, T3 at her heel, and handed Carth a datapad. "Not sure if it helps but T3 and I just downloaded a map of the area. Unfortunately, there's not exactly a big red X marking the spot of our missing codes."

"They're quite valuable, so they should be somewhere under heavy guard," Bastila reasoned.

The Twi'lek rolled her eyes subtly. "And that could be, oh, pretty much anywhere."

Carth held up a hand to cut the discussion short. "Well, we have to start somewhere, and our best bet is the command center, which would be…" he paused, consulting the map, then resumed, "up the hall and to the left."

Seth punched the door controls. "Well, let's get a move on, then." He turned to lead the way down the hall without checking to see if anyone was following.

Carth's eyebrows rose in mild curiosity and he turned to Mission. "Alright, I could tell you two were off, but what'd you say to get him in such a mood?"

She rolled her eyes. "Try asking him what _he_ said," she scoffed before moving to follow Seth down the hall.

He glanced over at Bastila sheepishly. "Kids, am I right?" he asked, and the Jedi simply motioned toward the door the two teens had disappeared through.

"Let's just move on, Captain," she replied coolly.

By the time they'd reached Seth, he was waiting at the end of the hallway. "Door's locked," he said as he motioned for the astromech droid. "Go ahead, T3"

The little droid, happy to do his part, chittered excitedly as he moved forward to make short work of the door's security systems. Carth's eyebrows knotted as he considered their situation. "Wait, if the door's locked, it's probably got some-" The door slid open, cutting the captain off in the middle of his sentence, to reveal a squadron of top-of-the-line Sith war droids.

"Blast 'em, T3!" Seth ordered frantically as he scrambled for his blaster. Carth wasted no time in whipping out his dual pistols and together with Mission took down the first droid through the door. Bastila had taken a massive leap that Carth could only assume was assisted by the use of the Force and was now at the epicenter of the chaos, the blades of her lightsaber cleaving through them easily.

The battle was over almost as quickly as it had begun, as the Jedi Commander had taken out nearly half the droids standing. Seth holstered his blaster, staring at her in awe. "Nice job, ma'am."

Carth thought he could hear Mission mimicking him under her breath, but when he turned to look at her, she was messing with the safety on her blaster. A weak voice calling his name from behind him caught Carth's attention, and he whirled around, raising his blasters instinctively. What he wasn't expecting to see when he lowered them was the face of a familiar private. "Captain Onasi, Avery, what are you doing here?"

"Draven!" Seth gasped from behind Carth, stepping forward towards the force cage in which his comrade was trapped. He hardly looked like the young soldier Seth had hauled halfway across the _Endar Spire_ during its final battle. Draven's thick dark hair was a greasy mop, his face pale and cheeks gaunt. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and Seth could tell he hadn't been sleeping well, if at all.

The private forced a weak smile. "Hey, Seth."

"Damn Melik, you look like shit," he replied with a shaky laugh, echoing Officer Dannit's words to the boy aboard the _Endar Spire_.

Draven laughed feebly. "Well, the Sith aren't exactly the greatest hosts. I don't suppose you've come to break me outta here."

He shrugged. "Well, not intentionally, no. We came with our own mission. But I sure as hell ain't leaving you here."

"Where are your cell controls, private?" Carth asked, and Draven jerked his head toward the wall adjacent to his cell.

"Just over there. But be careful – the execution systems are hardwired to the cage release software. One wrong command and I'll be cooked alive in here."

Seth grimaced. "Uh… Mish? T3? One of you wanna have a go at it?"

Mission took a glance at the console and gave a self-assured smile. "Oh, these ain't so hard, they have a security system just like this at the Bek base. It isn't state of the art like this one, but the base programs are identical."

"So you can do it?" Bastila asked.

"'Course," Mission replied with a shrug, turning to work at the switches. With a low hum, the force field holding Draven captive flickered away.

"Thanks," the private said genuinely, nodding at the Twi'lek. "If the Sith hadn't taken what little I managed to take with me from the _Spire_ , it would be yours."

She shook hear head. "Nah, you don't owe me anything. Just try not to get captured again."

A faint smile touched Draven's lips. "Noted."

"Force, Draven, I never thought I'd say this, but it's good to see you," Seth said, clapping the other boy on the shoulder. "I didn't think anyone else from the _Spire_ survived."

The private shook his head, eyes downcast. "Most of us didn't. Between the injuries from the crash, the rakghouls, scavengers, and the Sith… let's just say it's good to see you too. All of you."

"What happened to Dannit?" Carth asked, unsure if he really was prepared to hear the answer.

Draven's face paled as he recalled the memory. "Rakghouls got him. He… he had me stop the infection, sir. I'm sorry."

The captain grimaced, placing a comforting hand on Draven's shoulder. "I'm sorry too, private."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Anyways, wasn't much longer until the Sith showed up, dragged me from the pod, and brought me here for questioning. It was just me and one of the engineers from the _Endar Spire_ , I think we were the only ones they found alive. Just drilled us with questions about Commander Shan, but neither of us knew where she was. Hell, I've never even seen her. Poor sod tried to break out of his cell, and set off those execution systems I mentioned. Sith just came through and cleaned out his cell in the morning, acting like nothing had happened afterward. Been a pretty rough month or so in here. Not even sure why they're keeping me around, maybe as bait for this commander, but I don't know if she even knows who I am."

"Draven Melik," Bastila said quietly from behind Seth and Carth. The private looked up, locking eyes with her. "You were selected for this mission based on your aptitude for strategic analysis. Once promoted to Private you were to shadow the analysts on the bridge as they picked apart Darth Malak's war strategies."

Draven's eyes widened, and he stood there slack-jawed for a moment before coming to his senses and snapping his hand into a salute. "Commander Shan, ma'am!"

She dismissed the formal address with a wave of her hand. "At ease. It's a pleasure to meet you in person, although I wish the circumstances leading to our introduction had been more pleasant."

"Likewise, ma'am."

"If you'll allow me to heal your injuries, would you be fit to serve out the remainder of your mission? We could use the help."

"Other than rotting away in that cell, ma'am, I had no other plans for today. I'll follow you into the storm."

Bastila smiled. "Lay down, Private Melik. This healing process could take a while, as I'm not as experienced as some of the Jedi Masters. Carth, would you grab Private Melik one of the blasters from the droids we just battled?"

As Bastila went to work on Draven and Carth hurried to do as he was told, Seth grabbed Mission by the hand gently. Green eyes locked with brown and he kept his fingers locked with hers. "Hey, I know we're kind of not getting along right now, but what you just did… helping Draven out… Thank you. It means more to me than I can say."

She smiled, squeezing his hand back. "Of course, Seth."

"We'll be okay, me and you?" His tone was questioning, and he still hadn't released his hold on her hand.

Mission nodded. "Yeah. Honestly, Seth, I was just hurt. I know being a soldier's important to, and I get that. But you just gotta know, I see so much more in you than that. So for you to say that I don't even know you… it sucked."

He shrugged as he withdrew his fingers from hers. "I'm really sorry, Mish. You were right, I just didn't want to admit I wasn't. It was immature and stupid, and the fact that you see more than just a rank or an occupation… I'm not used to being seen for who I am as opposed to what I can do for people. You're the first to voice that opinion to me."

"Oh, well I'm sure I won't be the last," she said with a shrug, and she was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She blushed deeply when they both withdrew from the embrace. "Well… um, how's your friend doing? Can you tell?"

Seth glanced over at Draven, who was lying on the cold durasteel flooring of the base, a faint blue glow enveloping his body as Bastila sat at his side with both hands extended, hovering above his chest. His face was twisted into a pained expression, but Seth could tell that the color was slowly returning to Draven's face. "I think it's working," he replied, though he wasn't entirely sure of what Bastila was doing, exactly.

"He'll be a big help in taking over that command center," Carth mused as he stepped up next to the two teenagers. "It's always nice to have an extra blaster or two in the mix."

They watched a bit longer in silence as Bastila wrapped up her healing process, and the blue glow faded away. Draven winced a bit as he stood but otherwise looked fine. "How do you feel, Private Melik?" the Jedi asked, and he nodded at her.

"A bit sore but that's it. Thanks, ma'am. Really appreciate it."

"Well, we need you at your best if you're gonna help us get the hell off this planet," Carth responded. "Especially since we'll be bringing you along."

Draven breathed a sigh of relief, a grin splitting his face. "That sounds great, sir. I've had enough of this planet to last a lifetime."

"Seems to be a general opinion here," Carth replied with a chuckle. "Sorry, Mission," he said with a glance over at their Twi'lek companion.

She shrugged. "Nah, sometimes I feel the same way on bad days."

Draven laughed. "Local, I assume?"

"Yeah," she said, extending her hand to the soldier to shake. "Mission Vao."

"Draven Melik," he replied with a smile. "Thanks for saving me from that cage."

"Oh, it's nothing," she said with a shrug. "Let's just hope you're a decent shot." She laughed as she passed the blaster Carth had picked up from the fallen combat droid over to him.

"Alright," Carth said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get a move-on." He gestured toward the next hallway, supposedly leading to the command center if the map that Mission and T3 had downloaded was accurate and up-to-date.

This time, Seth took a sweeping glance at his companions. "Ready?" he asked. After three affirmative responses and one confirming _bleep_ , he punched the controls for the blast door. It slid open with a _whoosh_ , and in front of them stood at least twenty Sith military base personnel. Seth grimaced as he reached for his blaster. "Where's Zaalbar when you need him?" he muttered.

As the first round of blaster fire came, the party dove in different directions to seek cover. Carth peeked out from behind the door frame and his fingers tightened around the triggers of his blasters. The first two troops went down. He turned halfway to see Seth upturn a nearby table, which he, Draven and Mission promptly used as cover from the barrage of the Sith's attack. Ahead, Bastila was cleaving through heavy troops and T3 had rigged a computer station to blow a group of officers across the room. They didn't seem like they needed any help, Carth assumed. He fired again. And again. And again. Sith soldiers dropped to the ground even as they sought cover, blood seeping from the joints in their armor.

It was the ear-splitting mechanical scream of an astromech droid that caused nearly everyone involved in the battle pause for just a short second. Just behind Seth, T3-M4 rolled backward uncontrollably, sparks flying from his chassis, and slammed against the durasteel wall before toppling over.

Seth's eyes widened. "T3!" he exclaimed. In that same moment, the hum of Bastila's lightsaber grew louder as she cut a trooper cleanly in half. Silence fell upon the room as the last of the Sith, a captain by the looks of her uniform, threw down her pistol and raised her hands above her head in surrender.

Carth inched closer to her, then kicked the blaster out of reach with the toe of his boot. Seth was behind him, hydrospanner already in hand, fixing up T3. Draven and Mission inched closer to watch.

Bastila deactivated her lightsaber, clipping it to her utility belt, and placed her hands on her hips as she fixed the captain with a stare. "Give us the planetary departure codes, and you can go free," she said, firmly and calmly.

Carth arched an eyebrow at Bastila's nerve. "You show the whole base you're a Jedi, and you're willing to let her go tell Malak about it?"

The Jedi's lips curled up at the corners in a perceptive smile. With a wave of her hand, a gesture so subtle it nearly went unnoticed, she said, "She will not tell Malak what she has seen."

"I… I won't tell Lord Malak about anything I've seen here today," the woman stuttered. Carth's jaw dropped.

"And," Bastila continued, really enjoying the fun she was having with the officer, "she'll give us the departure codes for the blockade."

"But… I don't have the clearance to access those codes," the Sith captain responded, her tone almost drone-like in response to Bastila's demands.

"Do you know who would have that clearance?" the Jedi pressed gently. In contrast, Carth noticed that Bastila's vocal tones were both soothing and alluring, though he was sure that his commanding officer had more than just a silver tongue to thank for the Sith captain's cooperation.

"Admiral Karath's appointed governor of Taris, Xayalith."

Carth clenched his fist at the mention of Malak's most trusted admiral. "Where's this governor?" he asked through gritted teeth.

The helpful officer pulled out her personal datapad to show them a map identical to the one Mission and T3 had downloaded earlier. "There's a hallway here that will take you to his private quarters," she explained, tapping the location on the chart. "The codes should be locked up in there."

"Well, thank you, you've been quite helpful," Bastila told her, and the woman smiled at the approval. The Jedi turned, with Carth on her heel, leaving the dazed captain leaning against a wall as if drunk. "Private Avery, Private Melik. Come."

"Did we get the codes?" Seth asked, looking up from his work on T3

"No," Bastila explained. "But we know where they are. And you aren't just going to sit there and play mechanic while we retrieve them."

"You didn't seem to mind Seth playing mechanic when he fixed that accelerator to his swoop bike and got you out of Brejik's slimy hands," Mission muttered under her breath angrily. Unfortunately for the younger woman, Bastila's sensitive ears picked up every word.

"As I recall, I escaped myself, actually," the older woman pointed out.

"Only because Seth caused so much of a distraction!"

"Which, may I remind you, nearly got us all killed! This is why I am now in charge, Miss Vao, and I hope you do come to realize that soon enough."

"I only follow the lead of people who have proven themselves capable leaders, _Miss Shan_ ," Mission replied, venom in her voice. "And you're not one of them."

Seth glanced up from T3, who at this point had powered back up. "Ma'am? Mission? We're ready to move out if you are."

Mission and Bastila looked up at him embarrassedly. "Of course, Private," Bastila said hastily. "Take up the flank."

******

"So where'd you pick up the cute tagalong?" Draven asked as he and Seth took up the rear of the group wandering the eerily empty halls of the military base.

"Just bought him a few hours ago at the droid shop just down the street," Seth replied simply, though he knew that his fellow squadmate was referring to someone else entirely. For some reason, he didn't like it one bit that Draven was making comments on Mission's appearance, and he preferred to avoid the subject altogether.

"Ha, very funny," Draven responded, not caring to hide the annoyance in his tone of voice. "Seriously, though, are you going to make a move there? Or have you already done it?"

"I've kind of been too preoccupied with surviving the aftermath of the _Endar Spire_ to pursue romance, Draven."

"But would you if you had the chance?" Draven pressed. "Because if you don't got dibs, I'm calling them right now."

Seth stopped in his tracks to grab the other soldier roughly by the forearm. "She's _not_ a commodity to be calling dibs on."

The private arched an eyebrow at Seth's reaction before splaying his hands out in front of him in a gesture of defense. "Whoa, alright man. Didn't mean to offend anyone. She's all yours, I'll back off."

Seth rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on Draven's arm. "She's not _mine_. Hell, Mission Vao is her own person and probably will be. Whatever guy is lucky enough to end up with her will probably be _hers_ as opposed to her being _his_."

"Avery? Melik? Is there a problem?" Bastila's voice was sharp and commanding ahead of them, and the entire party turned to look at the two soldiers stopped several meters behind the group.

"No, ma'am." Seth didn't take his eyes from Draven as he spoke.

"Then let's keep moving," she ordered.

Both soldiers turned to face her and in unison responded, "Yes, ma'am."

They stopped not two minutes later at a sealed door, where Bastila folded her arms and knotted her eyebrows. Draven and Seth exchanged a confused glance at their commander's behavior. "Ma'am," Draven's voice breached the silence. "Everything alright?"

"I… sense a disturbance in the Force just beyond these doors," Bastila explained, obviously concerned.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mission asked, the question she'd vocalized the one on everyone's mind. Yet, as Seth looked forward to the door in front of them, he couldn't help but notice a feeling of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't know, exactly," Bastila admitted. "I just know something isn't right. Be on your guard." She motioned for T3. "Let's get this door opened."

The droid whistled happily in compliance and rolled forward to work on the controls. Draven and Carth took cover behind one side of the door's entrance, Mission and Seth the other, blasters at the ready. Bastila crouched behind T3, her double-bladed lightsaber hilt held deactivated but ready in her hands. The astromech chittered a quick warning before the door slid open, revealing a single man armed only with a double vibro-blade. Seth's eyebrow quirked. He couldn't imagine the reason behind Bastila's supposed 'disturbance' and the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when they were facing a six-on-one battle with the odds on their side.

The man Seth could only assume was Governor Xayalith turned to face the trespassers, remarkably calm in the face of the situation as if he'd been expecting them. As it turned out, he had. "It's about time you arrived," he said, his voice deep. "I've sensed your presence since the moment you set foot in this facility, Jedi."

"You could have mentioned that people could _sense_ you coming before insisting you accompany this part of the mission," Mission grumbled to Bastila.

"He's a Force user," Bastila said, her eyes fixed on the man in her moment of revelation.

Xayalith dismissed Mission's comment with a wave of his hand. "Don't be upset. Your companions are both like gleaming beacons of power in the Force. It'd be difficult not to notice them." He lifted a long, pale finger to point at Seth. "Especially yours… wild, untamed… untrained, perhaps?"

The private felt his heart seemingly leap into his throat. "Me? I'm not even a Jedi!" His mind couldn't help but recall his conversation with Bastila before meeting Canderous just days earlier, however.

"Seth, he's trying to get inside your head," Bastila said quickly, though she wasn't able to hide the shake in her voice that left doubt creeping in Seth's mind.

Xayalith again waved his hand in a dismissal of the conversation before him. "No matter. My master will surely award me with my lightsaber when I deliver him the heads of not one but _two_ Jedi, trained or otherwise." He brandished the double vibroblade with a snarl.

"Like hell you will," Draven growled, diving forward to take a shot at the governor.

"Draven, no!" Seth shouted in warning far too late. Draven's body collided with the sonic mine set just beyond the doorway, just as Seth's hands clamped down over Mission's ears to protect her from the piercing noise that exploded from the mine. He collapsed on top of her as the ringing in his ears intensified despite the fact that they were the farthest from the blast. Draven rolled across the floor ahead of them, writhing in pain as he cupped his hands over bleeding ears. The force of the blast itself along with the sonic frequency had thrown T3 into Carth and overloaded his systems, and Bastila stood alone, slightly dazed by the blast, to face the governor.

Her lightsaber ignited, and her movements were sluggish as she slashed forward to incapacitate her attacker. Xayalith easily sidestepped the blow, waving his hand to continue her forward momentum with the Force. Bastila was picked up off her feet and slammed into the adjacent wall, and she crumpled to the floor, motionless.

Carth shoved T3's metal chassis off of his own body and forced himself to stand. He limped forward to take hold of his blaster pistol, only to see it flying out of his reach. It ended up in Xayalith's hand, and the captain found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun.

Before Xayalith could pull the trigger, however, Seth's body collided with his. The boy tackled the governor to the ground, wrestling for the gun. Xayalith thrashed out in the Force, sending Seth sprawling across the floor next to Bastila. He turned to face a similar attack from Carth, and yet again prepared, he threw the captain back against T3's deactivated chassis, this time hard enough to stun the veteran.

It was Mission who stepped in to force Xayalith to drop the blaster, swinging her vibroblade tenaciously. Carth's blaster clattered to the floor as the governor was forced to meet her blade with his own, the metal clashing together with a resounding clang.

Seth forced himself to his knees and blinked to clear the blurry vision before him. He felt his very soul freeze as he watched Mission engage one of the most dangerous enemies they'd faced in single combat, and for a moment allowed the shock to settle before springing into action.

He scrambled for Bastila's deactivated lightsaber, fumbling with the hilt for only a moment before the blade sprang to life, just as Xayalith's booted foot connected with Mission's jaw and she fell back, dazed. Seth glanced up in horror, first at Mission's thin frame hitting the floor, then at the governor's sword rising to make a decisive killing blow. And as he charged, his eyes met another set of equally determined irises, charging at Xayalith with equal speed from the opposite direction.

Draven reached him first, the unarmed private tackling the governor away from Mission. Seth slid to his knees at her side, cupping her jaw in his hand and ensuring her consciousness before turning to face the two bodies wrestling for control on the ground across the room.

Everything switched into slow motion as Seth watched in mute horror while Xayalith brought his blade up to pierce through Draven's abdomen. He was vaguely aware of his own scream as his former squadmate crumpled to the ground and the governor turned to face him, a wicked gleam in his eye. With a confident and triumphant cackle, Xayalith lifted a hand to send force lighting crackling towards Seth. The private lifted a feeble hand to ward off the lightning, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the indescribable torture he knew was coming.

Except it never came. Seth cracked one eye open to see a magnificent display of purple-tinted electrical currents dancing through the air before him. A tingling sensation in his palm caused him to look down, surprise and a sense of pride overcoming him as he saw the waves of lightning hitting his hands and _bouncing back_ toward the governor. Xayalith screamed in pain as he was electrocuted by his own power, and the lightning was cut off almost as quickly as it had begun. Weakened, the governor dropped to his knees, and Seth dashed forward to cleave through his chest with Bastila's lightsaber.

The governor's body collapsed to the floor, and Seth spat. "That was for Draven."

As if saying the boy's name immediately recalled the situation to Seth's mind, the private turned to find his squadmate. Draven was sprawled across the ground, motionless, and Seth dropped to his knees before his friend. He didn't need to check for a pulse to know Draven was gone.

He barely noticed Mission, beaten and bruised, inch up behind him and wrap her arms around his trembling frame as he broke down in uncontrollable sobs. He turned to bury his face in her shoulder, tears leaking through the threads of her vest and onto her skin as she cradled him close, pressing her lips to the crown of his head and realizing the pain she felt in her own heart.

Her heart was breaking for him, and for this boy she'd only just met but had saved her life. Mission Vao was getting her first look at the reality of war, and she didn't like it one bit.


	9. Bombs Away!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canderous, Mission and I are tasked with stealing a ship from Taris' most powerful crime lord, and, because I'm an idiot, I try and make it romantic.

Taris seemed unusually quiet in the hours that followed the gang’s escape from the Sith Military Base with the blockade’s departure codes. In the face of the outcomes of their venture into the base, Bastila and Carth had decided that Canderous Ordo could wait for the delivery of the codes for at least another twenty-four hours, as they all needed to process the taxing emotions brought about by Draven’s death.

Unable to give him a proper veteran’s service while stranded behind enemy lines, Carth did his best, fetching Draven’s dog tags and allowing himself and Seth to salute him in silence before high-tailing it out of the base.

Seth sat along the edge of the Upper City platform near the entrance of their apartment complex, leaning his body over the railing as his feet dangled precariously over the thousand-foot plummet to the Undercity below. He held Draven’s tags tightly in his clenched fist, the image of his comrade’s final encounter with the Sith Governor burned into his mind despite how desperately he tried to blink it away. For a moment, he pictured Draven in his place, holding Seth’s dog tags and desperate for peace. The boy shook his head. Part of him felt that it should have been him that was left lifeless inside that base. The other part of him hated himself for being grateful that it indeed hadn’t been him.

“We’ll give him a proper service once this is all over,” Carth said suddenly from behind him.

Seth smiled half-heartedly. “Along with everyone else who went down with the _Endar Spire_ , huh?”

His captain nodded. “Yeah. This operation’s taken a lot from us. The least we can do is ensure that no soldier goes forgotten.”

The private sighed. “Ever wonder why _we_ were the ones to make it out of this mess, sir?”

Carth sighed heavily, his eyes flashing with the pain that came from a career full of wondering the same thing. He placed a reassuring hand on Seth’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “I’ve learned to stop asking that over the years, because the only place that question is gonna lead you is to the bottom of a bottle.” His hand slid from Seth’s shoulder as he gripped the railing next to the private, leaning forward to see his face. “Seth, I was never big on believing in fate, but survive enough impossible odds and you start to think there’s a bigger plan out there that the universe has for you. Regardless of what you may think, you and I were meant to survive what we have up to this point. And I’m grateful for that, because if the universe could make something out of a mess of a man like me, then it sure has to have big plans for someone with as much potential as you.” He clapped the young man on the back. “Now let’s keep moving forward. We owe that much to Draven.”

Seth glanced back again at Draven’s dog tags in his fist before pulling the chain over his head to let them clink against his own tags beneath his shirt, resolve building. He swung his legs back up over the railing and hopped down, giving Carth a small smile. “Thank you, sir.”

* * *

The next day, Mission, Zaalbar, Bastila and Seth made the trek back to the cantina to meet Canderous Ordo once again. The Mandalorian was reclined at a table, massive arms relaxed behind his head. He didn’t budge as he made eye contact with Seth and the party neared closer. “I knew you were the capable sort,” he said easily, cracking a cocky smile at his own knack for recruitment.

“We got what you wanted, now how do we get out of here?” Seth asked, his fear of the mercenary having worn off in the face of watching his squadmate die to get them to this point.

If Canderous was even remotely fazed by Seth’s brusque response, he didn’t show it as his grey eyes made a quick surveillance of the area before he leaned forward and brought his voice low. “The _Ebon Hawk_. That’s the ship we’re going to use.”

While the name of the ship meant nothing to Seth, he noticed Mission and Zaalbar’s demeanor immediately change at its mention. “[Are you insane?]” Big Z growled.

“The _Ebon Hawk_?!” Mission repeated incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“What’s wrong with the _Ebon Hawk_?” Seth asked curiously, glancing at Mission sidelong.

“Absolutely nothing,” Canderous said quickly. “It’s one of the fastest ships in the Outer Rim – completely upgraded arsenal and combat tech and an entirely overhauled hyperdrive. The Ebon Hawk is the best damn ship on the planet, and I know how to get you in the pilot’s seat.”

“Sounds good,” Seth replied, cocking an eyebrow at Mission and Zaalbar.

“And it’s _Davik’s_ ship,” Mission added. “You know, the local crime lord who’s all but controlled Taris for the past twenty years?”

“Sounds _bad_ ,” Seth amended. “We’re seriously going to steal a ship from the most dangerous man on Taris?”

Canderous sighed. “ _I’m_ the most dangerous man on Taris,” he corrected. “Besides, you just broke into a high-grade Sith military installation and you’re afraid of a little residential burglary?”

Seth was silent for a moment. “Well… if you put it that way–”

“We’ll take it,” Bastila cut in. “What do we have to do?”

“Ma’am?” Seth asked, alarmed. He was sure stealing a spaceship had to violate some sort of Jedi Code.

She turned to him and as easily as if she could read his mind, simply said, “This sounds like the kind of man who could use a good burglary to set himself straight.”

The comment muted Seth entirely, unexpected and uncharacteristic as it was. Canderous took the moment to jump in and explain his plan.

“Davik saw you race in the season opener and was impressed with your bravado both during and after the race. I can make a push for him to give you a tour of his estate tomorrow, during which you and I, and you, Twi’lek girl, are going to grab that ship, pick up your friends, and get the hell off this rock.”

“Me?” Mission asked, quirking an eyebrow at Canderous’ purposeful inclusion of her on the plan.

“Yeah. Aside from the fact that your Jedi friend here is on enough wanted notices from the Sith that Davik could recognize her on sight, and your Wookiee would instantly become a target for slavery profits, I’ve seen what you’re capable of ever since I first arrived on Taris and walked into Javyar’s Cantina. You’ve got enough wit and street smarts about you to impress Davik, enough to do the talking for both of you. So what do you say?”

Mission was stunned for a moment, for the first time in her life feeling entirely valuable to this group of people that had only continued to impress her since meeting them. “In,” she replied quickly once she found her voice. “I’m in.”

* * *

The night before the trip to Davik’s estate was a restless one for the two teens, despite Bastila’s harping reminders that they both needed a good night’s sleep in order to be presentable for the crime lord in the morning. Mission assumed that in reality Bastila was coping with her inability to be there during the mission by exerting what little control she could over the smaller details.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” the Twi’lek said quickly, ignoring Bastila’s frustrated huff as she levered off the bunk she’d been sitting on and strode out the apartment door. She made her way through the curved hallway to the door leading to the back of the complex and out onto a balcony area overlooking the constantly-buzzing traffic of Taris’ sky lanes.

She was unsurprised when Seth joined her moments later, his footsteps quiet as he stepped up to the railing next to her. For just a moment, she was reminded of the moment she’d decided to stay with this ragtag team of freedom fighters, and how much of a role he’d played in that decision. She glanced over at him, watching the lights from the speeders zipping back and forth across the night sky before them reflected in his emerald eyes. His demeanor had seemed so much heavier since their venture into the Sith base, but she could still see a glimpse of the lighthearted boy she knew in those eyes.

His trance broke, and he glanced over at her, green eyes meeting brown. “What?” he asked gently, in reference to her staring.

“You doing okay?” she asked. He forced a small smile that did nothing to hide the pain he felt.

“I’ve been better,” he responded honestly.

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Oh, he wasn’t my friend,” Seth laughed dryly. “To be honest, he was kind of a jerk.” Mission didn’t miss the tears he blinked away as he spoke.

“But…” she started for him, sensing there was more he wanted to say.

“But there’s nothing worse than wishing you could make things right with someone before this damn war takes their life,” he finished, voice cracking. Mission didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know if there was anything that _could_ be said. She just wrapped her hand around his arm, sliding her fingertips along the length of his forearm before threading them with his. He glanced down at her again, those electric eyes locking with hers before he dipped his head lower, bringing her lips precariously close to her own.

Mission wasn’t sure if there was ever a time in her life that she ever wanted what had been placed in front of her more than she wanted to kiss Seth Avery right then and there. The stain of tears in the corners of his eyes, however, caused her to draw back. The hurt in those eyes caused a heavy pang in her heart immediately after. “Seth…” she started quietly, releasing her hold on his hand. “Force, I _want_ this, more than you know, but you’re hurting right now. The last thing I want is to build… whatever this is, whatever we are, on a shaky foundation cemented in your sadness.”

His shoulders dropped. “I suppose that’s fair. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you some sort of emotional depressant.”

She shrugged. “I know you didn’t. And once you’re good… and you know for sure it’s something you want… we can try that again.”

He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it. Now, what do you say we get some shut-eye?” He held a hand out to her to lead her back inside, and Mission couldn’t resist the feeling of euphoria that accompanied walking the entire way back to the apartment with her fingers locked in his.

* * *

Miles above the city, just outside of Taris’ atmosphere, Darth Malak stood at the bridge of the _Leviathan_ , an Interdictor-class cruiser spearheading the planetary blockade, staring out at the multitude of ships under his command surrounding the planet. The crew of the warship went about their tasks in solemn silence as the Dark Lord stood, broad frame tall and menacing, with his back to them at the head of the bridge.

Admiral Saul Karath approached his superior, his polished boots clacking against the _Leviathan_ ’s durasteel flooring. His gait was strong and purposeful, displaying a sense of confidence that only years serving under Malak could bring. Such confidence inspired in his underlings a similar fear of Karath as they had in the Sith Lord standing at the ship’s helm. Saul often used such fear to his advantage, commanding Malak’s fleet with an iron fist.

Although he knew that his superior was aware of his presence, Saul cleared his throat before speaking. Malak made an almost imperceptible shift in his stance, and the admiral clasped his hands behind his back in respect. “You summoned me, Lord Malak?”

“The search for Bastila is taking too long.” The Sith Lord’s voice was visceral and mechanized as it filtered through Malak’s prosthetic jaw’s vocoder. The cool, sleek metal stood in stark contrast to Malak’s pale and defined cheekbones, cutting an unnaturally smooth and even line that separated the top half of his face from the nose up. The separation was so smooth, in fact, that it inspired quite a bit of speculative talk in the barracks. Saul had always attempted to pay the theories no mind, but even he wondered if the stories of Malak’s now-infamous training duel with his onetime Sith Master, Revan, bore any semblance of truth. There were more than a few Sith officers who held a staunch belief that the permanent disfiguration left by Revan’s lightsaber was not an accident, as the official statements proclaimed, but in fact was a physical reminder of a lesson not to be forgotten.

It wasn’t long after the incident that Malak led the attack on Revan’s flagship that led to the former Dark Lord’s death, after all.

Putting his speculation to the side, Saul kept his voice even as he responded to Malak’s analysis of the situation on the planet below. “Progress has indeed been slow, my lord, but I assure you, we are doing everything we can to contain the situation.”

Malak dismissed Saul’s excuses with a wave of his hand, still facing the planet below. “We can’t afford the risk of Bastila escaping Taris – she’s far too valuable to the Republic war effort. Destroy the entire planet.”

Saul’s voice caught in his throat, his mind flashing back to the destruction of Telos at the start of his Sith military career. It was no wonder Malak considered him the man for the task that had just been set before him. Still, it didn’t sit well with the admiral. “Th… The entire planet, my lord? But there are billions of people on Taris. We’d be slaughtering countless innocents… not to mention our own men still on the surface!”

It was then that the Sith Lord turned on heel to face Karath, and Saul was face-to-face with a man that, on one hand, still bore the remnants of what likely used to be a very handsome man, and on the other hand, had, with one stroke of a lightsaber and years dedicated to the dark art of the Force, been turned into a nightmarish husk of once was. For all his confidence, even Saul Karath was struck with fear as those ominous golden eyes narrowed at him. “Your predecessor’s last decision before his… untimely removal from the ranks of my forces was to question my orders. I assume an officer of your caliber, admiral, is not so foolish as to make the same mistake?”

Saul had to scramble to find his words. “O-of course not, Lord Malak. I’ll give the order right away, but it will take several hours to position our fleet.”

Malak turned back towards the viewport and away from Saul, disinterested in any excuses the admiral was putting forward. “Then I suggest you begin immediately, Admiral Karath.”

* * *

As he, Mission and Canderous followed Davik Kang through the halls of the crime lord’s estate, Seth wondered if he’d ever seen more purple in one place in his life. From plum to lavender, the color adorned nearly every corner of the estate that they’d traveled on Davik’s tour of the property. The crime lord himself wore a custom suit of deep violet armor as he swung his arm in grandiose gestures at the different features of his home.

“So, Mr. Fure, I’m excited to hear of your interest in the Exchange, especially at such a young age,” Davik prodded conversationally, and Seth’s attention snapped over to the older man at the mention of his alias.

“Yeah, uh, I figure the sooner I start, the more time I have to rise up the ranks,” Seth rambled, glancing over at Mission for help. The Twi’lek nodded in subtle encouragement, and Seth couldn’t help the flush to his cheeks when his eyes flicked back down to her lips. For some reason, he couldn’t get their conversation from the previous night out of his head.

“I see,” Davik continued, thankfully oblivious to the painfully obvious attraction between the two teens. “Well, you’re going to have to start off small. We all do, after all. Even I started just by smuggling spice, and eventually I built this all for myself.”

“It’s truly inspiring, Mr. Kang,” Mission said in fake awe, ignoring the way Seth’s gaze still lingered.

“is there any field within our prestigious organization that interests you specifically?” Davik asked. “Somewhere you’d like to start off as a foothold to get your hand in the whole pot? Slavery, spice, smuggling…”

Mission nodded, a sign to Seth to keep his mouth shut and let her street smarts do the talking, as Canderous had suggested. “We’re really interested in starship trading, bartering for the vessels that make the smuggling of your goods possible.”

“Ah, an excellent industry with increasing demand! I like how you two think,” Davik marveled. “And I do have something that will definitely pique your interest, if you’ll follow me to my hangar.”

Canderous turned back towards Mission with a nod of approval at her improvised conversation with the crime lord as Davik reached for an access card on his belt. He slid the card through a scanner next to a nearby door, then entered a lengthy code into the console. Seth released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as the doors slid open to reveal what may have been the most beautiful ship he’d ever seen. The freighter took up the entire space of the hangar, light glinting off what seemed like a fresh coat of bronze finish painted across the top half of the ship’s durasteel hull. Dual heavy quad laser cannons were perched atop each wingtip, and Seth noticed a rotating turbolaser turret sitting upon the dorsal. There was a faint hum from the idling sublight engines, the pitch of the noise indicating that they were not only of the newest make, but also heavily modified. The _Ebon Hawk_ was magnificent.

He could hardly believe that this was soon to be _his_ ship.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“The _Ebon Hawk_ exceeds any story or description I’ve heard,” Mission remarked, her awe matching that of her companion.

Davik nodded. “My pride and joy – notice the state-of-the art security system I’ve had installed to protect her.”

Seth was snapped out of his moment of bliss, his voice cracking just a bit as he turned toward Davik, wide-eyed. “Security system?”

“Yep,” Davik replied earnestly. “The hangar shields are completely impregnable. Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ can get through without the codes needed to steal my baby.”

The private swallowed hard. “ _Impregnable_?!”

* * *

“Blast it,” Seth grumbled as he paced back and forth in the quarters Davik had requested they stay in while a guest in his estate. “This is bad. This is really, really bad.”

“Calm down, kid!” Canderous snapped from his position seated atop one of the bunks in the quarters. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Yeah, Seth, it’s gonna be alright,” Mission reasoned. “This is just a bump in the road. We’ll find a way around it. We always do.”

“Always?” Seth repeated. “Yeah, well we haven’t exactly come across impregnable shields before.”

Mission rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to count out all the impossible scenarios we’ve made it through so far? First-timer human winning one of the biggest swoop races of the season, rescuing a Jedi from captivity, successfully breaking into a high-security military base, and… oh, yeah, killing a _freaking rancor_!”

“Yeah, well impregnable shields aren’t hungry for mine-stuffed Gammoreans,” Seth pouted, though Mission could tell by the way his expression softened that he was taking her point to heart.

Canderous, however, stood to tower above the two, making it clear that he’d had enough of Seth’s complaining. “I don’t know how we started on rancors, but this conversation is _over_ ,” he growled, enunciating the word ‘over’ threateningly. “Now, we find Hudrow and convince him to give us the codes, and get that hangar door open. And I think I know where he is.”

“Who’s Hudrow?” Mission asked, curious.

“Davik’s pilot. He’d have those code memorized forward and backward, I’ll bet.”

The Twi’lek folded her arms. “Seems like our guy, but what makes you think he’ll just hand those codes over to you?”

“Well, aside from the fact that I can drive a hard bargain, he was caught stealing spice from Davik’s lab last week,” Canderous said with a shrug. “The boss has likely got him locked up in the torture room.”

“Holy crap, Davik’s got a _torture room_ in his _house_?” Seth asked incredulously.

“Wouldn’t be much of a crime lord if he didn’t, I assume,” Mission observed.

“Alright, well that settles the security system,” Seth noted, “but I noticed Davik had a keycard just to get the hangar doors open. I doubt Hudrow would still have that on him if he got taken in for crossing his boss.”

“Right,” Canderous said. “Even I don’t have clearance for the hangar, since my duties tend to keep me planetside. If anyone’s got a hangar clearance keycard, it’ll be the guys in the spice lab. They pack up the goods and bring them to the hangar for smuggling constantly.”

“So we gotta divide and conquer, I’m assuming?”

Canderous nodded. “Exactly. You two get your hands on one of those keycards. I’ll talk to Hudrow. We’ll rendezvous at the hangar.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Mission remarked.

“It is, except Davik’s men will shoot on sight if you’re seen anywhere outside of these quarters. You both have got to keep on your toes. I’ve seen the both of you fight in the video footage of that post-race brawl at the season opener, and these goons should be nothing but blaster fodder if you keep your wits about you.”

“I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Seth replied.

“ _But_ ,” Canderous continued, “If you see Calo Nord, you get the hell out of there and radio me for backup.”

“Calo Nord?” the private repeated, tone questioning.

“He’s the most dangerous bounty hunter in the outer rim, and Davik’s new pet. He’ll kill you if he gets you two cornered and there won’t me much you can say or do about it, so trust me when I tell you to run like hell if you encounter him.”

“No pressure,” Mission noted with a nervous chuckle.

“C’mon, we should move out,” Canderous pressed. “Hudrow ain’t getting any younger, and Taris ain’t getting any prettier. Let’s get the hell off this rock.” With that, the massive Mandalorian hoisted his heavy repeating blaster over his shoulder and strode out the room, presumably toward wherever Hudrow was.

Seth turned to Mission and smiled shyly. “So… uh… guess it’s just you and me, then.”

“Guess so,” Mission responded, unholstering her blaster and clicking the safety off. “So, you wanna take point or should I?”

* * *

Canderous strode through the halls of Davik’s estate as calmly as he did confidently, his swagger influenced by plenty of time spent intimidating every one of the crime lord’s goons in his time spent working with the Exchange. The two guards outside the torture chamber simply nodded at him briefly before allowing him access, and the door slid shut behind him with a hiss. Hudrow was just across the room, slumped over and trapped within a force cage.

The single Rodian overseeing the torture chamber’s operations barely had time to recognize the Mandalorian warrior before Canderous knocked him over the head with the butt of his rifle. Hudrow’s eyes widened as he watched the alien drop to the floor, out cold.

“C-Canderous,” he stuttered. “What are you doing here?”

The Mandalorian simply crossed his arms over his chest. “Bartering. So tell me, Hudrow, how much is your life worth to you?”

* * *

There was a silent tension in the air as Mission and Seth snuck through the halls of Davik’s estate, following a map mission had downloaded to her datapad in order to find the spice labs. Seth passed the quietness off as necessary for the stealthy manner of their task, but even in silence he’d always been able to feel comfortable with his Twi’lek companion. Today was different.

It was different because he’d tried to kiss her the previous night, and it was different because he had no idea if the moment had been on her mind as often as it had his since then.

Seth felt awkward and embarrassed over the whole ordeal, and Mission seemed intent on acting like it had never happened, but for all he knew she’d been sizing up judgments on him in her head all afternoon. Hence the tension.

He glanced over at her as her deft fingers made short work of a console’s security system, and there was a faint _click_ from the doors ahead. She looked back at him expectantly, and he frowned. “What?” he asked.

Mission rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “I said, spice lab is just through those doors, do you want to take point or should I?”

Seth shook his head with the intention of shaking out all the distracting thoughts along with it. “I can take point,” he said with a little more forceful confidence than he’d intended. He held his blaster pistol at the ready while Mission took cover next to the door, and nodded to signal her to punch the controls.

The door slid open with a _hiss_ , and the spice lab worker closest to the commotion hardly had time to react before Seth put a blaster bolt through his foot. The Rodian collapsed to the floor, howling in pain, and the private rolled forward to take cover behind a spice crate just inside the door just as three burly guards drew their blasters from across the room.

“Careful!” Mission warned as she peeked out from behind the door to assess the positioning of the guards before taking cover once again just as a barrage of blaster fire whizzed past her. “This lab is full of all sorts of narcotics that we don’t want to rustle up with a stray blaster shot. Last thing we need is fumes poisoning the air we’re breathing.” She popped out of cover once again, having memorized where the guards had been standing, and squeezed off a few blaster shots before ducking back down into cover. The first of the three guards dropped as Mission’s aim hit its mark.

Seth took advantage of the guards’ distraction as they took a moment to recognize that their companion had fallen, and vaulted over the crate he’d been hiding behind to blast one of the guards right between the eyes. In one fluid movement, he holstered his blaster and drew his sword, making short work of the third and final guard.

Mission joined him shortly, crossing over the spilled containers of refined spice that had been toppled during their brief scuffle with the guards and brushing his shoulder gently with her fingertips. Seth startled at her touch, and the Twi’lek quickly withdrew her hand. “What’s with you today?” she asked. “Sheesh.”

Seth sheathed his sword carefully, shaking his head. “Nothing, I-” He cut himself off as his attention was caught by the remaining spice lab workers cowering behind stacked crates. “Hey,” he called out to them. “We aren’t gonna hurt any of you. We just need a hangar clearance card and we’ll get out of your hair.”

A pained moan from behind them caused Seth and Mission to whirl around, and the private caught sight of the poor lab worker who’d been the victim of his first blaster shot. The Rodian held up a key card and Seth moved forward to take it. “Uh… I’m really sorry about that,” Seth mumbled, nodding towards the Rodian’s foot. “Didn’t know what was coming for me from behind those doors.”

“Here,” Mission said, kneeling down next to the injured alien and procuring a medpac from her utility belt. “This should help soothe the pain and speed up the healing process.” She stood and turned to the rest of the workers. “As for you all, Davik’s gonna have plenty to worry about when we’re through here. I suggest taking some of the spilled spice from our skirmish for yourselves. Head down to the Lower City and find the Hidden Beks. Tell them Mission sent you, and you’ll fetch a good price for what you bring.”

She didn’t wait to watch the workers discuss her proposition among themselves as she brushed past Seth and headed for the lab’s exit. He stood there for a moment, staring after her, before she turned around and gestured for him to follow. Seth willed his feet to move despite the fact that he felt they were rooted to the ground and rushed to catch up to her.

“You’re being really weird today,” she remarked once he fell into step next to her.

“I am?” he asked hesitantly, straightening his red spacer’s jacket as he walked. “I’m not meaning to be.”

Mission sighed audibly. “Look, Seth, if this is about what happened last night… Things don’t have to be awkward between us.”

“I just…” Seth ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I can’t tell what’s going on inside your head, Mission. I’ve been psyching myself out all day wondering what your thoughts are on what happened between us… or almost happened, I guess. I’ve been wondering if I’m on your mind as much as you’re on mine, and I can’t tell, and it’s driving me up the wall.”

She stopped in her tracks. “Seth, I told you last night – I’m interested. Like… definitely interested,” she forced away the awkward tone in her voice with a half-hearted laugh. “But I also know that you were hurting and dealing with Draven’s death, and the last thing I wanted you to do was make an emotionally-charged decision and then end up regretting it later once you’ve cleared your mind. Then things actually _would_ be awkward between us.”

“That makes sense,” Seth said quietly. “So… you haven’t been judging me all day?”

She laughed. “Only for how strangely you’ve been acting toward me since you woke up.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Seth Avery, you’re your own worst enemy. Stop psyching yourself out.”

He smiled warmly at her. “I’ll try not to.”

It was in that moment that Canderous rounded the corner to meet them, repeater slung over his shoulder. The massive Mandalorian frowned at the sight of the two close together, Mission’s hand still on Seth’s shoulder. “If you’ve been standing here flirting, you’d better have that access card on you,” he glowered.

Seth pulled the card from his back pocket, cheeks flushed red from the nature of Canderous’ comment. “Right here,” he said. “You got the codes?”

“Of course I do,” the Mandalorian said, handing Seth a datapad with the aforementioned data downloaded and flashing on the screen. “Hudrow’s a coward, getting that information from him was as easy as gutting a cannok.”

“Well, if we’ve got anything we need we should probably head-” Mission was cut off by the sound of an explosion. A tremor shook the ground below them, sending Seth to the ground while Mission and Canderous grabbed onto a nearby console to keep their balance.

“What the hell was that?” Seth asked as he pushed himself up off the ground. He began to brush himself off when the second blast hit. This time, all three of them gripped the console in order to stay upright.

“I guess the Sith got tired of waiting around for Bastila,” Mission said. “Chances are Malak’s heard that the codes were stolen from the military base, and he’d rather see her die than risk the chance of letting her escape the planet.”

“But I thought he wanted…” The rest of Seth’s words were drowned out by another set of explosions.

“We’ll have to carry on this conversation later!” Canderous shouted above the noise of the bombs, which were starting to rain down more frequently. “We need to get to the _Ebon Hawk_ and get her out of here now if we want to rescue your friends.”

Seth knew an order when he heard one, moving towards the hangar doors with a “Yes, Sir!” He swiped the key card as Mission input the code, and the hangar doors slid open to reveal Davik and a shorter, deadlier man sprinting for the ship from a doorway across the hangar. Seth could only assume that the fearsome human at Davik’s side was the infamous Calo Nord. As soon as the two parties caught sight of one another, everyone stopped in their tracks. Weapons were out in an instant, and Seth’s heartbeat sped up in terror as he realized that one of Nord’s guns was aimed directly at him.

“This is my fight,” Canderous growled. “Kids, get to the ship, start the engines up. Both of ya!”

Seth didn’t wait for further instruction before he grabbed Mission by the hand and sprinted with her to the ship, zigzagging in erratic patterns in order to keep either of their adversaries from locking onto them. Davik was taken down quickly, his face torn apart by Canderous’ heavy repeater. Nord proved much more difficult to defeat, as he and the Mandalorian took turns firing at each other and dodging bullets.

The private stopped in his tracks, however, just meters from the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s loading ramp, when Calo lifted a small sphere above his head threateningly. He’d seen the object far too often back at the academy on Coruscant, where it was so dangerous that recruits were merely allowed to observe its effects from a distance, and never to use it. What Seth was now looking at was no doubt the most powerful, deadly grenade ever fashioned, and it had him frozen in fear.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Calo growled. “If I’m going down, you’re all going down with me. Shoot me and this thermal detonator will blow us all to bits.”

Seth gulped, stepping slightly in front of Mission in an unconscious effort to shield her from the upcoming blast. She squeezed the hand he was holding onto gently, letting him know that in his fear he was crushing her fingers with his death grip. For a long time, nobody stirred, they just waited for someone else to make the first move. After some time, during which the Sith continued with their bombardment of the planet, Nord lifted his blaster and pointed it directly at Canderous’ chest. At the same time, the Mandalorian lifted his heavy repeater and aimed it at Calo. Before either could pull the trigger, however, a Sith bomb directly hit the estate, destroying half the hangar and sending rafters down on top of the infamous bounty hangar. The last thing Seth could hear was a scream from the man as he disappeared from sight, the heavy metal crushing him.

A tug on his hand brought him back to the hangar and the bombardment. He felt a pang in his heart as his entire being realized the weight of the situation, the Tarisians suffering as their homes, their families, their lives were destroyed. Mission shouted Seth’s name, halfway draggin him up the ramp before he shook himself out of his trance. Once fully alert, he sprinted toward the front of the ship and found the cockpit, taking a seat in the pilot’s chair.

“Get us out of here, kid!” Canderous shouted from the back of the ship as he boarded. “Keep the ramp extended! We need to get your friends out, _now_!”

“All systems are go,” Mission told him in a tone he could tell she was fighting to keep even.

"Activate repulsors, bring thrusters to max power," Seth responded, keeping his eyes focused forward as his hands flew across the control board. Piloting training from his days at the academy flooded back to his memory as he pulled up on the steering yoke and brought the ship out of the hangar.

The ship was heavier and clunkier than a Republic starfighter, and his control of the ship was a bit erratic at first as he accustomed himself to the ship's features. Seth swerved left and right as he piloted, avoiding the Sith's line of fire and hoping that he could get to the others in time. As the apartment building came in sight, his heart sank. The building was already almost completely burned down. "Dammit!" he cursed, banging his fist on the console before him.

"Wait," Mission said, pointing out the front of the viewport. Seth took a second glance and saw them, waving at the _Ebon Hawk_ madly while standing in front of the escape pod that had brought Carth and Seth to the surface of Taris. The very escape pod that had changed Seth's life.

He brought the ship down as closely as he could to the metal walkway that had been severely damaged by the Sith. Mission reached for the loading ramp controls and extended it as far as it would go. Bastila leaped up easily, then helped Carth and Zaalbar, as well as T3 up onto the ramp with the assistance of the Force. Carth punched the secondary controls for the loading ramp as he sprinted by, and Seth fired up the engines again. They were out of the atmosphere in minutes, with no one daring to look back at the burning city behind them.

As soon as Carth made it up to the cockpit, Seth slid out of the pilot's seat, the captain wordlessly taking his place. Bastila held her breath. "Now we find out if those codes were worth the trouble."

"They'd better be, princess, or this'll be a trip cut short!" Canderous growled.

"No, they're working," Carth murmured. "But there are a few fighters on our tail. I'll see if I can shake them."

As if on cue, the _Ebon Hawk_ rocked as it was peppered with blaster fire, and Seth had to grip the back of the Carth's seat to keep his footing. "Is this what you call 'shaking them,' Republic?" Canderous sneered, the old rivalry of the Mandalorian Wars revived within just minutes of the two meeting one another for the first time.

"If you have a problem with my flying, you can take a jump out the airlock!" Carth snapped at his offender. "Seth! Get in those gun turrets, take them down!"

"Yes, Sir!" Seth shouted, once again a private. He turned and ran for the turrets.

"I'm not having a _kid_ watching my six," Canderous muttered.

Carth spared a moment to toss a glare over his shoulder. "Seth's better than you give him credit for."

"Whatever, I'm taking the other turret."

Seth passed by Mission and Zaalbar in the main hold while on his way to the turrets, the Twi'lek being held by the Wookiee in a strong hug. He felt a pang in his heart as he watched the exchange, realizing that his friend had just lost everything she'd ever known. Seth made a mental note to check in on her later as he reached the ladder leading up into the turret on the ship's hull.

Almost as soon as he took his seat at the guns and placed his headset on, he saw Canderous climbing into the gun below him. "Alright kid," the Mandalorian said through the headset. "I don't know how well you handle one of these things, but you'd better not get us killed."

Seth just smiled and shook his head, locking onto and destroying the first fighter as an answer. "Don't worry," he said hotly. "I won't."

"Now you're getting cocky," Canderous remarked. "That'll make you lose your shot. Just focus on shooting." As he spoke, he took out two fighters with one shot. "By the way, I'm winning by one."

Seth smirked as he noticed five flyers flying straight toward him in formation. He spun his turret, spraying them with blaster fire, and watched as five brilliant explosions colored the space in front of him. "You were saying?" he asked innocently through his headset.

"Now you know you couldn't have done that with allies around, that would be risking friendly fire." Canderous took out three. "And I don't know how your Republic does it, but for a Mando, the sentence for friendly fire is death."

"Except," Seth began, pausing to take fire at a fighter. He narrowly missed only for Canderous to destroy it as is arced beneath the Ebon Hawk. "Hey! That guy was mine!" he whined. "Anyways, there _aren't_ any allies around, so your point is moot."

"Kid, you're going to drive me crazy," Canderous snarled. He locked onto the last two fighters and destroyed them, the explosion sending brilliant shades of orange and gold across the starscape before them. "We're all clear, Republic, make the jump!" he told Carth via the headset. Almost instantly, the stars streaked past and they were in hyperspace.

Seth climbed down the ladder and back into the halls of the _Ebon Hawk_ , meeting Canderous back in the middle. "By the way, kid," the Mandalorian started, "I beat you eight to six. Better start practicing."

* * *

Mission stared out at the blueness of hyperspace whizzing by the cargo hold viewport, perched atop a plasteel container and hugging her knees to her chest. In that moment, she felt just like the vulnerable and terrified little girl she'd been while packed inside a cargo crate with her brother during their escape from Ryloth.

She hardly noticed when Seth leaned in against the frame of the cargo hold door, staring at her empathetically. "Hey," he said gently.

She glanced back at him, eyes bloodshot from crying earlier. "Hey," she whispered.

His boots thudded quietly against the _Ebon Hawk_ 's durasteel flooring as he crossed the hold to pull up a crate next to hers and take a seat. "How, uh… How you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm alright," she replied softly, then looked up into his eyes. "Actually, no. No, I'm not." Her voice broke slightly as she looked back down. "But I wish I was."

"Mission," he started, voice firm but gentle. "You just lost your planet, and a whole lot of your friends, and most of your childhood. It's okay to not be okay for once."

"Seth, don't, you're gonna make me lose it, and I just stopped crying," she stonewalled. She tried to crack a smile but failed miserably.

"Mish, who are you trying to be strong for?" he asked seriously.

"I don't know!" she replied, burying her face in her hands. "For Big Z, for Carth, for you, for myself… I don't know!"

He reached his hand up to touch her chin gently. "That's a lot of weight to carry all by yourself," he told her. "You don't have to be strong all the time. That's why we're a team. We shoulder each others' weight and bear each others' burdens because _none_ of us can be that strong all the time." He paused, and Mission nearly lost herself in his emerald eyes and the way he looked at her. "Not even Mission Vao, the strongest girl I know," he added with a smile.

Before she could help herself, she was leaning in, longing to close the distance between their lips. He drew back slightly, reaching up to cup her cheek in his palm with a breathy laugh. "I thought you wanted to wait on this. I mean… I'm still hurting."

"Yeah," Mission said. "But now I'm hurting, too, and I realized that it didn't affect how much I _wanted_ it at all. Just how much I needed it."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because I've wanted this since the moment we met in that Force-forsaken cantina and I didn't know how much longer I could-"

"Seth?"

"Yeah?"

She laughed despite herself. "Just shut up and kiss me."

He complied without complaint, taking her face in his hands and leaning forward to press his lips earnestly and fervently to hers. She hummed against his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair and marveling at the way their lips fit together as if the Force itself had intended for them to be a match. For all her imagining and dreaming about this moment, Mission couldn't have imagined the sensation that overtook her as she kissed Seth Avery in the cargo hold of the _Ebon Hawk_ for the first time.

The ache was still there in her heart for everyone she'd lost on Taris, but she felt him take that brokenness in that simple exchange between their lips, and in one moment he was sharing in her pain and she was sharing in his, and together they comforted one another in the solace that was _them_.

He pulled away gently, pressing another short kiss to the corner of her mouth before drawing back. "Wow," he breathed. "Um… was that okay?"

Her only answer was to giggle softly and pull him back in once again.


	10. Grassland Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I learn that, as great as Taris was, it's not the end of my journey with the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_

In retrospect, Seth probably should have clarified with Bastila what “Jedi Academy” meant before they arrived at their destination, but he had to admit that spending the hyperspace journey with Mission fast asleep in his arms in the cargo hold was worth the distraction. He’d attempted to get some sleep as well, shutting his eyes with his cheek laid against the top of her head, but his mind was racing far too fast to allow any genuine rest.

When Bastila had mentioned that they would be traveling to a Jedi Academy, Seth had assumed she was referring to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The idea of returning to what he considered his homeworld had him on edge; he’d be setting foot on the planet an entirely different young man than he’d been when he’d left just a few months earlier.

He’d seen a lot in his young life, even before his crash-landing on Taris. His youth on Coruscant had been governed by the influence of the gang culture that consumed the planet’s lower levels. He’d seen crime and murder and betrayal within the ranks of those who’d raised him, and had even seen a man die by his own hand at the age of ten. He could hardly say that the military was responsible for the loss of his innocence. His years at the Coruscant Military Academy had been some of the most stable of his life, in fact.

But experiencing his first battle as a soldier and his first mission behind enemy lines had been just another benchmark in his young life that marked significant change in his life. Watching Trask sacrifice his life to save him, as well as Draven to save him and Mission both, made him infinitely grateful for the brotherhood he’d joined when he’d sworn into the military. Having a man like Carth as his mentor filled the gap left by life as an orphan, and having Mission by his side had shown him the beauty of letting others into his life.

He was now one of the most accomplished soldiers of his rank within the Republic, owner of one of the fastest ships in the outer rim, and considered a potential Force-sensitive by one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order.

And he had who he considered to be one of the most beautiful girls in the galaxy asleep against his chest.

Yes, his life had changed significantly since he’d first set foot on the _Endar Spire_.

Mission shifted in his arms, then, stirring as she woke. She blinked a few times as she adjusted to the dim lighting, and glanced up at Seth with a lazy smile. “Hey,” she mumbled.

He squeezed his arms around her waist gently in response. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good, all things considered,” she said honestly, before a joking smile cracked her features. “Had a crazy dream that we gave into all that tension between us and finally kissed.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, playing along. “Was it good enough to want to do again?”

She shrugged, smirking coyly. “I don’t know; I may need a reminder.”

Seth grinned, cupping her face in his hand as he leaned into her, their lips meeting each other’s halfway. He felt warmth course through his body like electricity as she reciprocated his enthusiasm, fisting the front of his jacket to pull him even closer.

“Guess it wasn’t a dream,” Mission laughed as they pulled apart. She withdrew herself from his embrace, sitting up with her back against a durasteel crate to look him in the eye, much more solemn. “So what exactly does this mean? What are we?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t even know if I’m being reassigned by high command, or if I’m continuing to serve under Captain Onasi or Commander Shan, or if I’ve earned myself some shore leave. But I think whatever lies ahead for us all at the Jedi Academy Bastila’s taking us to will provide some answers.”

She frowned. “Jedi Academy? Why are we stopping there?”

Seth shrugged. “Because that’s where Bastila needs us to go, and she’s calling the shots.”

He didn’t miss the look of displeasure on her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You really don’t like her, do you?”

“She hasn’t really given me a reason to like her.”

“Well, maybe she’ll give you a reason yet. I’m gonna go check in on everyone up in the cockpit and see what our ETA is, if you wanna come with?”

Mission shook her head as they both stood up. “Nah, I should probably check in on Big Z and see how he’s handling the space travel. I mean, I know he’s been in space before, considering his heritage on Kashyyyk, but he’s been planetside ever since then. Can’t imagine his space legs have been stretched in a while.”

Seth nodded, but offered his hand to her nonetheless, entwining his fingers with hers as they made the walk from the cargo hold to the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s main hold and only separating once their paths diverged.

He joined Carth and Bastila in the cockpit just in time to watch the _Ebon Hawk_ drop out of hyperspace in front of a vast green world that was distinctly not Coruscant. He glanced at Bastila in bewilderment. “Wait, I thought we were going to see the Jedi Council.”

“We are,” she replied simply.

He threw a sidelong glance at Carth, who was no help in clarification. “Ma’am, isn’t the Jedi Council on Coruscant?”

“The High Council is, yes,” she explained. “But the Council of the particular branch of Jedi government that assigned me to the _Endar Spire_ mission is housed on Dantooine.”

“Huh,” Seth hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I’ve seen more than enough of Coruscant in my lifetime. But what’s next, ma’am? You deliver your debrief, and we all go our separate ways? Or is there more to your mission?”

Bastila shook her head. “I can’t say, yet, Private. That’s a matter best left to the Jedi Council. I’d like you and Carth to both be there for the mission debrief, however. As soldiers of the Republic your input on the events that occurred on Taris are vital to my report.”

“Yes ma’am,” Seth and Carth agreed in unison.

As Carth brought the _Ebon Hawk_ closer to the planet’s surface, Bastila placed a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “You asked where I thought we were headed next, Private Avery, and although the will of the Council is yet to be determined, I do sense that our adventures together have not yet concluded.”

“If that’s the case, ma’am, then I look forward to continuing our work together,” he responded warmly and genuinely.

“As do I, Private,” she replied, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. “As do I.”

* * *

The Jedi Academy was simply decorated, but architecturally marvelous to Seth as he stood at the center of its council chamber beneath a vaulted ceiling. Unlike Taris’ duracrete ‘jungle’ of skyscrapers, the academy’s structure seemed to flow with the natural rise and fall of Dantooine’s sloping hills. Seth tried his hardest to let the gentle curve of the academy’s walls and the soft filtering of Dantooine’s sunlight through the windows calm his racing heart as Jedi Master Vandar Tokare looked him up and down.

The four Jedi who made up the academy’s Council had been stealing glances at him throughout Bastila’s debrief of the events on Taris, but now that she’d finished recanting the tale, he was the center of their unprecedented attention. “Interesting,” Vandar murmured, continuing to eye Seth curiously. “ _Very_ interesting.”

Seth shifted his weight from his left leg to his right leg nervously. He glanced over at Bastila for support, but found none. The halls of a Jedi Academy were no place for sympathy, it seemed, no matter how young one was. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I’m sorry, sir, but… what exactly is so interesting?”

Master Zhar Lestin, a tall lethan twi’lek, answered plainly. “You. The Force presses heavily upon your future, young Avery. Heavily enough to consider you a candidate for training as a member of our esteemed Order.”

Seth reeled, unable to form the words necessary to reply at the dizzying concept of his potential as a student of the Jedi. Master Vrook Lamar, an older human with an obvious chip on his shoulder, shook his balding head, however, his eyes narrowed at his companion. “Perhaps Master Zhar is jumping to conclusions,” he said bitterly. “We need indisputable proof of your affinity for the Force before even considering you for training.”

While Seth could tell that the other three masters were now staring at Vrook incredulously, it was Bastila who spoke first. She kept herself composed, restraining the fiery attitude he’d seen while under her command on Taris, but her grey eyes lit with barely contained indignation. “Master, I have already relayed to you the events that occurred on Taris in full detail. Seth not only became the first human to survive the Taris Season Opener swoop race, but won. He obtained the starship we arrived on without my assistance as the Sith were laying waste to the city, and managed to get us all out of there alive. He defeated a warrior trained in the dark side of the Force, an adept who even I could not stand against.”

“We can clearly feel the power within the boy,” Zhar added.

“Of course we can,” the academy’s historian, Master Dorak agreed. “Vrook, we can’t afford to simply turn a blind eye to this boy. Between the obvious indications to his connection to the Force and his heritage, we can’t ignore the fact that the Force itself has led him to us, and us to this tipping point.”

Seth’s head snapped up, his attention fully on Dorak. “My _heritage_?” he repeated, the single word catching his attention.

Vrook glared at his comrade. “Master Dorak! That’s enough.”

Seth stepped forward, abandoning military protocol in search of insight into whatever the Jedi knew about him that he himself did not. “What are you talking about?”

“Master Dorak speaks out of turn,” Vandar said gently. “And the Council has quite a bit to discuss in private. Padawan Shan, Private Avery, please leave us to our deliberations. You should rest after the events on Taris. We will summon you in the morning, and you will have answers to your burning questions, Private Avery.”

Bastila bent low at her waist in a respectful bow. “As you wish, Master Vandar.” She turned to leave, beckoning Seth with a wave of her arm, but Seth stood rooted in place, still absorbing the shock that was setting in at Master Dorak’s words. The Padawan put a hand on his arm, grasping him by the arm. “Seth, come on!” she whispered harshly, half-dragging the boy from the council chambers.

He couldn’t will himself to move beyond the academy’s courtyard, so Bastila let go of her vice-grip on his bicep and smoothed her robes. “We should follow the council’s advice and rest, Private. They will answer your questions in the morning.”

“I’ll be back at the _Ebon Hawk_ in a bit,” he mumbled. “I just… need to think.”

She gave a short sigh of resignation. “Fine, I expect you to be back shortly,” she told him curtly, making her orders to her subordinate clear before turning on heel and striding across the courtyard to the doors leading to the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s landing pad.

Seth braced himself against on of the courtyard’s duracrete walls for a moment before sliding down the vertical surface to take a dazed seat in the grass, the Jedi master’s words echoing in his head. There was something about the familiarity with the subject of his “heritage” with which Dorak spoke that gave Seth the unsettling feeling that the man wasn’t simply referring to the details that his Republic service record or psych profile unveiled.

There was a small chance that Dorak could have been referring to Seth’s childhood on Coruscant and the members of the Black Sun gang who raised him, facts that the boy was never eager to share with others but also wasn’t one to hide – the information was accessible enough to the Jedi through Republic intel. But Seth felt a stirring in his soul, a deep sense that the Jedi master hadn’t simply been talking about who'd _raised_ him.

His family had always been a mystery, one that he’d put behind him long ago when it had become apparent that dwelling on who they were wasn’t going to make up for the fact that they weren’t there, and that he’d likely never find out. But now, realizing that details he’d spent a majority of his youth dreaming about unveiling were now within his reach caused a long-forgotten longing to stir within his soul.

He wasn’t sure what disturbed him more: the fact that old wounds had just been torn open, or the fact that the Jedi seemed adamant about keeping the information to themselves.

“So, I’m guessing you didn’t see the _keep off the grass_ sign at the courtyard entrance?”

Mission’s joking voice was a welcome sound, and he glanced over at her as she plopped down to sit next to him. “Kidding,” she clarified. “There aren’t any signs, though judging by the people I’ve encountered here so far I wouldn’t be surprised if someone did yell at us for sitting in the grass.”

Her smile faded when she noticed how quiet and distant her companion was, and she placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, unwilling to force her to bear the burden of his current situation when he knew she was still reeling from the shock of watching her world burn. “Just a long debrief,” he mumbled. “I’m tired.”

Chestnut eyes narrowed, and he already knew he’d been caught in a lie. “So you decided to sit down in the grass instead of walking the extra, what, two hundred meters back to the _Hawk_?” she deadpanned. “I’m not an idiot, Seth. What’s up?”

He sighed heavily. “I think the Jedi know what happened to my parents.”

Mission’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? What makes you think that?”

“One of the Jedi on the Council mentioned something about my heritage like he knows who I am and where I came from. But they shooed Bastila and I out before I could ask for clarification. In fact, one of the masters seemed pretty intent on making sure I never even got that clarification.”

Mission made a move to stand, fingers curling into a fist. “Those sons of schuttas! They have no right-”

Seth caught her wrist in his grip and held tight. “Yelling at them isn’t gonna do any good. If anything, it’ll make them less likely to give me any answers in the morning.”

She sighed, relaxing her fist and instead choosing to interlock her fingers with his. “Sorry… I just… I know what it’s like to have a big fat question mark when it comes to family, and it’s not right for them to hold any information like that from you. If someone knew where Griff was and refused to tell me, I’d… I don’t’ know what I’d do, but it sure wouldn’t be pretty.”

Seth smiled. “Trust me, part of me feels like doing that right now. But I trust Bastila, and she said I’d get some answers if I waited, so… I’m waiting.”

Mission shrugged. “Bastila also said we’d like it here, and this planet is probably as bland as the old rations the Beks had stockpiled up at their base.” She smiled sadly as she reminisced, then quickly changed the subject. “Hey, Seth?”

“Yeah?”

“You think we’ll both find answers out here?” she asked. “If the Jedi send you with Bastila again, and if I come with… you think you could find out where you came from and I could… I don’t know… find Griff?” She trailed off, laughing quietly at herself. “I sound like an idealist, don’t I? I know it’s unlikely, but I can’t help but hope.”

Seth simply smiled, pulling her close and pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “If hope is still something we can manage to hold onto, we have to hold tight and refuse to let it go. You’ll see Griff again, Mission. I promise.”

She smiled, playfully socking him in the shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re supportive, you know that?” She slipped her hand back into his and tugged him with her in the direction from the _Ebon Hawk_ and for the moment, the ache for answers that had settled upon Seth’s chest dissipated as he followed this incredible young woman he’d been given the opportunity to know.

He wasn’t sure about the Force – how it worked, if it really was all-controlling, or if it somehow had a magnificent destiny for him, but as he pressed his lips to Mission’s before they retreated to their separate dormitories that night, he couldn’t help but whisper a prayer of thanks to the Force for where it had led him so far. He settled into his bunk blissfully, the concerns of Jedi masters and the unanswered questions forgotten as he slipped into the oblivion of sleep.

Until the nightmares began.

* * *

He’d never seen them in person, but Seth could instantly recognize the two figures stalking darkly through his dream-state. Darth Revan walked with shoulders squared proudly, continuing forth despite the quiet protests of the taller Sith Lord trailing behind.

Head meticulously shaven, Malak stood well over six inches above his master. His jaw, Seth noted, was not the cold durasteel prosthetic that had come to be feared across the galaxy but instead was genuine flesh and bone and set in quiet defiance. Whatever Seth was seeing had to have happened a long time ago.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” the tattooed Sith Lord insisted. Revan simply kept walking, head facing forward as if Malak wasn’t there. “The ancient Jedi sealed this gateway,” he continued. Receiving no response, he quickened his stride until he stood before his master. Malak fixed Revan with a desperate look as if he could see directly into the eyes behind the mask. “Once we pass, we can never go back. The Council will expel us from the Order.”

Revan’s voice was cold and confident in reply. “We already stepped off that path when we decided to reject the Code.”

Malak’s concerned facial expression did little to hide his lingering doubt. “Is the Star Forge truly worth the risk?”

Revan whirled around in that moment, placing a hand on Malak’s shoulder and looking every bit as in command of the situation as the stories Seth had heard portrayed the Dark Lord to be. “Remember why we’re doing this,” Malak’s master said earnestly. “We can’t allow the galaxy to forever be trapped in a state of war. We don’t want that for the next generation. This is the only way we can ensure peace for the galaxy.”

Malak simply nodded, stepping out of his master’s way. Together, they reached out through the Force and opened the door in front of them, revealing a strange, alien device that illuminated the room in its glow. The two Sith Lords passed through the archway, and the last thing Seth saw was the door slamming shut behind them.

* * *

Seth was jolted from his sleep in an instant, bolting upright into a sitting position and taking a moment to catch his breath. He could hear the noise of Canderous and Zaalbar’s heavy breathing from the bunks on either side of him, indicating that the time still sat somewhere within the early hours of the morning. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, before swinging his feet over the edge of his bunk and allowing his bare feet to make contact with the cold metal flooring of the _Ebon Hawk_ with a shiver.

He stood with a sigh, grabbing a shirt from his footlocker and pulling it over his head before shuffling into the main hold. He could hear commotion in the refresher from across the room, and leaned up against the center console to both collect himself and see who was awake during these early hours.

He didn’t have to wait long, for nearly a minute later the door to the refresher slid open and Mission stepped out, freshly showered and dressed and ready for the day ahead of them. She smiled when she met his green eyes from across the room. “Hey bed-head, you’re up early.”

Seth’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he brought a self-conscious hand to his head. Sure enough, he could feel his hair, which had long since grown past regulation length, sticking out in every which way. She laughed at his reaction, crossing the hold to grab him gently by the wrist and pull his hands away from his hair. “Stop it,” she said with a chuckle. “If you thought I liked you for your hair, I’ve gotta tell you that you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You’re in a good mood,” he remarked, smiling down at her.

She leaned back against the center console, dragging him with her by their interlocked fingers. “I managed to get through the night without any nightmares about Taris. It’s nice to wake up and not feel so empty.”

He allowed himself a humorless laugh at the irony. “Huh, yeah, I can imagine it is.”

She glanced up at him with concern. “I take it you weren’t so lucky… you’re having nightmares again?”

“Sort of,” he mumbled, unsure of how much he was willing to share with her. “It felt so real, it seemed like more of a memory or a vision than anything else.”

“A memory of what?”

He sighed heavily. “Nothing from _my_ past, that’s for sure. I saw Revan and Malak, right around the time they betrayed the Jedi, I think.”

“You saw _what_?” Bastila’s voice rang clearly through the main hold as she entered from the cockpit, her face white as a sheet.

Seth let go of Mission’s hand quickly and turned to face the Jedi Commander. “Uh… Revan and Malak, ma’am. They seemed to be searching for something.”

“That is… unsettling,” Bastila murmured, her voice composed even as her demeanor was visibly shaken. “I must go speak with the Council immediately; Private, I ask that you clean up and join me as soon as possible.”

“Will do, Ma’am,” Seth responded dutifully, watching as she nodded and turned to exit the main hold. Mission’s fingers gently pressed into his shoulder in quiet support.

“Why do you think the Council needs to see you?” she asked.

He sighed. “They’re considering accepting me for Jedi training.”

Mission’s eyes went wide. “ _What?_ ” she asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Seth shrugged, defeated. “I had a lot on my mind yesterday, and honestly I didn’t really feel like facing any of it, least of all _that._ ”

“Why not?”

He turned to face her fully, green eyes piercing into brown. “Because I don’t think I even want to be a Jedi, Mission. They’ll ruin me.”

“It can’t be any worse than the military,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, it can,” he insisted. “A soldier can get angry, get attached, fall in love… A soldier can be human. A Jedi… well, a Jedi’s supposed to be an emotionless machine of justice and peace. I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”

She threaded her fingers with his once again and stood up on her tiptoes to press a feather-light kiss to his cheekbone. “You don’t have to become anyone other than who you already are, Seth, regardless of how things go down in there. _That’s_ who got you through running with gangs on Coruscant, _that’s_ who got you through the military academy, and _that’s_ who led all of us through everything that happened back on Taris. Who you are right now is enough, and no amount of Jedi training is going to take that away.”

He smiled, pulling her into his chest and embracing her tightly. “You’re cute when you’re supportive,” he joked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she responded with a laugh. “Go get dressed, you’ve got a Council to impress.”

* * *

The atmosphere in the Jedi Council Chambers had been no more inviting than it was during his previous visit, Seth noted as he stood outside the doors with Carth, wondering what the Jedi were deliberating within. After a short but succinct discussion of his dream, Seth had learned that Bastila had shared in his experience of the nightmare as well, and that it was indeed a vision. The Jedi had explained that the link between his and Bastila’s minds during the vision were the result of an exceptionally powerful Force bond, which hadn’t meant much to Seth due to his limited understanding of the Force other than the fact that Bastila was acutely aware of most of the stronger emotions that passed through his mind. While it was a little unsettling that his privacy was not as secure as he’d originally thought, Seth managed to find it comforting that, at the very least, he was never truly alone.

He found that he’d been having to search for the bright side of things quite often recently.

“Stop fidgeting,” Carth instructed as he leaned against a nearby wall. Seth stilled his movement instantly, and the captain allowed a small smile to crack his features. “Why are you out here, exactly?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at Seth’s sudden departure from the room.

“They’re deciding whether or not they want to train me as a Jedi right now,” Seth explained, the very notion that he’d just described still a wholly alien concept to him. He could hardly imagine himself going through the training, let alone actually _becoming_ a Jedi Knight.

Carth nodded slowly as he took in Seth’s explanation. “And, from what you can tell, does it seem like they’re going to choose to train you?”

Seth shrugged. “I don’t really know. When I was in there they were all as stoic as ever, so their demeanor definitely didn’t indicate their leaning toward any particular decision regarding me. But, I don’t know Carth, I’ve got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that they’re going to go through with this.”

“That might just be the nerves talking, Seth,” Carth said gently, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Whatever happens in there, you’re a great soldier and an even greater kid. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you no matter where you end up.”

He attempted a half-hearted smile. “Thank you, sir. Honestly, above anything, I just want to know what they know about my parents.”

“Aside from the obvious,” Carth mused, “why?”

“What do you mean?” Seth asked. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“All I’m saying is that you might find out some stuff about your parents that won’t please you. You’ve said you were found by the Coruscanti gangs as a child, abandoned down in the lower levels. You don’t know why you were left down there, but the answers you’re seeking might do more harm than good.”

Seth sighed heavily, meeting Carth’s steady gaze with his own. “If you had a chance to know what happened to Dustil, wouldn’t you take it? Even if the news wasn’t what you were looking for?”

He almost regretted bringing the captain’s son up when he saw the pain cross through Carth’s whiskey-colored eyes. The veteran was silent for a moment before nodding slowly in acquiescence. “I would,” he said quietly. “Without a second thought.”

Seth opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the sound of the Council Chamber doors hissing as they slid open. Bastila stood in the opening, grey eyes falling upon the young man in front of her. “Come, Seth,” she said simply.

He couldn’t help but notice, as he followed after her, that she hadn’t called him “Private Avery” for once. The feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified, and he glanced backward at Carth, who gave an encouraging thumbs-up, before the doors slid shut once again.

Seth followed Bastila toward the center of the chamber on legs he was sure were about to give out at any second. He kept his eyes downcast, unnerved by the fact that each of the Jedi Masters once again had their eyes fixed upon him. For a long while, the only sound Seth could hear was his own heartbeat thrumming against his eardrums.

“Seth, the Council has come to a decision regarding your potential within the ranks of the Jedi Order,” Bastila’s voice cut through the silence, and he was thankful how her cool and collected demeanor brought a sense of calm to his soul. He wondered for a moment if that sense of calm had anything to do with the newly-discovered bond between them.

“And…?” Seth replied nervously.

Zhar cleared his throat before speaking, and the boy’s green eyes snapped over to focus his attention on the Twi’lek Jedi Master. “We’ve decided that we have no choice but to train you in the ways of the Jedi. Between your bond with Bastila and your visions of Revan and Malak, you may very well be the key to winning this war alongside Bastila.”

Before Seth could react, Vrook spoke up, his old eyes narrowing at the young man before him. “Do not, however, let your mind be filled with delusions of glory and power. Such thoughts lead only to the dark side.”

“Sir, I promise you, the last thing on my mind right now is glory,” Seth responded.

“Your committed service to the Republic military proves that well enough,” Vandar encouraged. “I’m sure you will prove to show just as much dedication to our Order. Your training shall commence immediately, as we have no time to lose. Please exercise patience throughout the process; the training of a Jedi takes many months, in some cases years. You, like Bastila, have a connection to the Force more powerful than we’ve seen in years which will help speed up the process but time will still move slower than you wish. We are not trying to hold you back, but instead ensure that you are prepared to face the dangers of the galaxy and within yourself when your training is complete.”

Seth nodded, saluting out of routine. “Yes, sir.”

“We look forward to your progress,” Zhar told him. “We’ve gone ahead and sent the Republic a request for your extended leave of absence, alongside Captain Onasi’s, as his role as a mentor during your time on Taris will prove invaluable as a resource for your training. The _Ebon Hawk_ will remain grounded throughout the duration of your training; you’ll find that everything you or your crew needs can be found here on Dantooine.”

“And speaking of your crew,” Vrook cut in, “we know that you and your friends endured much together on Taris. It may be tempting to form attachments with them, especially the Twi’lek girl. We trust that you will avoid such temptation?”

Seth froze, the sensation of an icy hand clenching around his heart forming in his chest. His blossoming relationship with Mission wasn’t just one of the few bright spots shining through the darkness that had consumed his life since childhood, but it was one of the only things keeping him sane throughout the recent mess his life had dealt him. He’d only just now began to indulge in the bliss that their closeness provided after weeks of refusing to act on his feelings, and he couldn’t imagine cutting that out of his life.

He nodded curtly at the Jedi Council before following out of the chamber, silently resigning to cooperate with anything else the Jedi asked him to do but fully intending to keep his relationship with Mission just the way it was.

He couldn’t let go of her now. No fracking way.

* * *

Three weeks after his apprenticeship to Master Zhar began, Seth sat alone in the garage of the _Ebon Hawk_ , his focus zeroed in on Mission’s hydrospanner, which was sitting on the floor in front of him. Reaching out a hand to better channel the energy field surrounding him, he took a deep breath and opened his mind to the Force as he’d been told. He flicked his wrist in a simple command to the Force in order to bring the tool up into the air. Nothing happened.

Seth released the breath he’d been holding, then took another, this time reaching out with both hands and staring down at the hydrospanner. The stubborn object remained in the middle of the floor, unmoving. The teenager paused for a moment, rubbing his temples in frustration and recalling Zhar’s words just hours before.

_“Be patient. It usually takes months for one to develop their ability to channel the Force enough to manipulate objects. You’ll be able to do it in a moment’s notice eventually, but at the beginning, it helps to clear your mind of everything but the task before you. The Force is your companion, not your enemy. Guide it towards the goal you wish to accomplish and it will help to control your actions.”_

Zhar had been adamant in explaining that Seth was already progressing quickly through the training and that he did not have to exert himself as he did, but the boy knew that the words were empty. Zhar knew as well as anyone that they didn’t have time to spend months simply learning the basics. If Seth was going to help Bastila stop Malak, he needed to be able to manipulate the Force as well as an experienced Jedi Knight, and in half the time it took to become a Padawan.

It felt as if the Jedi Order had single-handedly put the weight and pressure of the entire galaxy on his shoulders. He’d felt that weight in every waking moment of his training and studying, aching by the time he slugged back toward the _Ebon Hawk_ so that he could collapse onto his bunk and prepare to start all over again. His only respite was found in his time with Mission, late at night while the others slept. It was the only time they _could_ indulge in their relationship, as Seth had to keep a tight lock on displaying his affection for her in front of the others in order to keep the Masters off his back. He had a sneaking suspicion that Bastila knew he harbored feelings for the Twi’lek due to the shared bond between them, but he doubted she knew it had progressed beyond anything more than a boyish crush.

Seth shook the thoughts of Mission away sheepishly. “Clear your mind,” he muttered to himself, allowing his head to empty save for the image of the hydrospanner, which remained clearly visible even behind closed eyes.

He opened the channel between himself and the Force once again, feeling it flow from head to toe and back again. Lifting his hand, he silently urged the force with a simple command: _Lift_. Feeling the Force gather around him, acting almost as an extension of his arm, he flexed his fingers upward. The object shakily rose a few inches off the ground, and with it the effort Seth needed to exert to keep it afloat nearly doubled. He felt his brow furrow as he forced away the dizziness and forced the hydrospanner a few inches further into the air.

“ _Kid_!”

He heard the faint echo of Canderous’ voice bounce around the space inside his mind, weaving in and out of conscious thought. The hydrospanner began to tremble in the air, and Seth willed himself to focus all the strength he could muster on silencing the voice of the Mandalorian in order to still the quaking tool levitating before him.

“Avery!” Canderous shouted, much louder than before. The veteran mercenary grabbed Seth roughtly by the shoulder and shook him from his trance. The hydrospanner clattered to the floor loudly.

Seth gasped, gulping in breaths of oxygen to fill his suddenly empty lungs as he glared up at Canderous. “What was that for? I’ve been trying to get that thing in the air for the past three hours!”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Canderous growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Next time I see you turning blue, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Huh?” Seth questioned dumbly.

“While you were having fun with your little magic trick there, you forgot to breathe, Master Jedi,” Canderous sneered before stalking off towards the galley and leaving Seth exhaustedly collapsing against the garage’s workbench.

It wasn’t long before he sensed Mission’s unique Force signature drawing close. Swallowing momentary pride at the fact that he’d managed to sense another’s presence through the Force as if it were second nature, Seth turned just in time to see her lean up against the frame of the garage door. “Didn’t know forgetting to breathe was a quintessential part of Jedi training,” she mused, smirking down at the young man on the floor.

Seth rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the effort it takes just to get a damn hydrospanner a couple inches off the ground.”

She crossed the garage and pulled herself up into a sitting position on the pontoon of the swoop bike Davik had kept stored in the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s garage. “You’ve been at this for less than a month, Seth. It’s okay if you’re taking a while to get the hang of things.”

“It’s not, though,” he grumbled, standing up and crossing the distance between them. “If I’m going to be sent with Bastila on a mission as critical as they’re making it seem, I have to be at the top of my game. And besides, you guys can’t leave the planet until my training’s complete, so I’d rather not keep you any longer than necessary.”

Mission just laughed, taking his hand in her own. “You are such a nerf herder, you know that? Carth, Canderous, Big Z and I don’t _want_ to leave you. You know we’ll stick by you and Bastila for whatever crazy adventure they send you on next, right?”

He pulled their hands up to his lips and kissed her blue skin gently. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

She shrugged. “It’s what I’m here for. Now quit it with the PDA; Bastila’s in the room next door.”

“Then she’s definitely not in here to see me do this,” he announced smugly.

He didn’t give Mission a chance to respond and ask what he meant, but then again, she couldn’t really complain when he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips fervently to hers.

* * *

One month later, Seth realized that Bastila wasn’t going easy on him anymore.

The thought knocked him off-balance for a fraction of a second, and he suddenly found himself on the defensive, blocking the full arsenal of Bastila’s physical prowess from slicing him in half.

Perhaps if they hadn’t been using real swords, Seth would have felt more at ease, but in this moment, Bastila provided a legitimate threat to his life. He knew she would never hurt him on purpose, and his proficiency in combat had advanced tremendously in the weeks that encompassed his training, but he was still an apprentice. His training had taken a dangerous turn as the Jedi sought to show him that the Sith would not ease up simply because of his youth. They would kill him if they got the chance. 

It wasn’t a notion that he was foreign to; the military had taught him the same thing. But Seth couldn’t deny that compared to melee combat, the battles he’d trained for and participated in as a soldier were cold and detached. When he was blade-to-blade with his opponent, the fight became more intimately and emotionally charged, and the thought that the Sith acolytes could look into the eyes of their opponent and easily watch their life sap away unnerved him, to say the least.

He felt rather than saw the path that Bastila’s double-bladed sword carved through the air in a sweeping arc over his head, and instinctively flicked his own blade up to meet it, before tossing his sword back down to block the inevitable counter-strike from the opposite blade. Two resounding _clangs_ rang throughout the dueling chamber. He reached out with his senses to summon the Force, and sent a chair from a corner of the room flying toward her. Bastila easily caught it in midair through her own connection to the Force, letting it clatter to the floor.

Seth wasn’t a fool; he knew that at this stage in his training, he couldn’t outmatch her abilities with the Force. But the feint gave him the second of distraction he needed, and he seized the opportunity. He crossed his sword around her lowest blade and flicked his wrist, twisting her arm around her back due to his own sheer physical strength – a strength even he often forgot years of intensive military training had afforded him. Seth danced behind her, out of reach, and kicked outward with his leg, knocking her to the ground. Bastila whirled around as she hit the floor, using the momentum to sweep her legs beneath his ankles in an attempt to trip him. The move had worked on him the last time they’d dueled, resulting in his sound defeat, but this time he knew what to look out for. He sensed the movement before it came, and leapt lightly into the air as her feet swept below him. He kicked her sword out of reach as he landed before summoning it to his hand through the Force.

For a long moment, the only noise between Seth and Bastila were those of labored breaths and exhausted groans. Seth held Bastila’s sword out, allowing her to take it by the hilt before wiping sweat from his brow and sheathing his own sword. “How was that?” he asked, once he’d caught his breath.

Bastila brushed herself off casually. “Better,” she mused. “Watch your form, though. You’re getting sloppy and careless once you’re on the offensive. Malak likely would have fried you with lightning as soon as you gave him an opening.”

“I get the feeling this will never be easy,” he sighed.

A rare smile crossed Bastila’s face. “The life of a Jedi is never easy. But it is worth it.” She hung her sword on the weapons rack near the door and turned to leave for the enclave’s showers. She stopped at the doorway, however, turning to face the younger apprentice, the ghost of the smile still touching her lips. “I did mean what I said, however. About that duel being better. Your improvement hasn’t gone unnoticed by myself or the masters on the Council.” She nodded at him before exiting the room, and Seth blinked for a moment, trying to make sense of the fact that she’d just paid him a huge compliment.

He didn’t have much time to sort out his thoughts, however, as Master Dorak entered the room at that moment. The historian smiled at Seth kindly. “Zhar’s been telling us how well your training has progressed, but it was entirely different to see that for myself,” he said, referring to the duel. “How much you’ve accomplished in just a few short weeks is nothing short of incredible.”

“Thank you, Master,” Seth said, bowing deeply as he’d picked up from Bastila, despite his gut instinct to simply salute as he had in the military.

“Keep up your studies, young Avery. Your future is bright,” he encouraged, turning to leave as well. Seth watched him retreat for a moment, before he lost self control and blurted out the question that had burned in his mind for nearly two months, now.

“Wait! Master Dorak!” The aging Jedi turned to face Seth. “When I first came here, you mentioned that my heritage was a significant reason to accept me for training. Master, I don’t know the first thing about where I came from… and if you know something…” He sighed nervously, all anticipation that had built over the past weeks culminating in a jumble of words he could hardly force out. “I just want to know where I came from.”

Dorak sighed. “I can understand your curiosity. Vrook may disapprove, but I see no harm in telling you where you come from. If anything, perhaps there is a lesson to learn from your heritage.”

Seth’s heart leapt into his throat in anticipation. After so long, he was finally about to find answers to questions that had plagued him since childhood. “Please Master,” he asked, trying his hardest to keep his desperation from surfacing in the tones of his voice.

“Very well,” Dorak said resignedly. “You were born to two powerful members of our Order, who had secretly married without our knowledge before going off to fight in the Mandalorian War, alongside many Jedi who’d felt that the Order should have had a hand in the Republic’s effort to win the war. Your mother actually trained under me for a while; she was one of the most outgoing, charismatic, brilliant and powerful students I’ve ever had the privilege to teach. Not unlike yourself, which is what prompted my remarks the day you arrived here on Dantooine.”

“What happened to her?” Seth asked, feeling his throat constrict.

“Destroyed, by Revan and Malak,” Dorak replied, pain evident in his voice. Seth felt his stomach drop and his head spin, but could not speak. “But not before she and your father had turned you over into the custody of the Jedi for safekeeping. We intended to take you to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and train you from birth, but our transport ship that had been carrying you was shot down upon entering Coruscant’s orbit. When our search teams arrived at the wreckage in Corsuscant’s undercity, you were missing and your escorts were killed. We believed you were dead for sixteen years, until your name showed up on a list of recent graduates from Coruscant’s military academy. We chose Bastila to oversee the ship you were assigned to and confirm that it was truly you. The events following the destruction of the _Endar Spire_ proved that.”

Seth’s mind reeled, feeling flashes of his memory return and life events clicking into place. “Wow… I…” He pressed his palm against a nearby wall to steady his suddenly shaky legs. “Thank you for your honesty, Master, I just… I need to process this.”

He didn’t get to see Dorak nodding his head in understanding because his feet were moving of their own accord, past the Jedi Master and out of the room. Out of nowhere, he was suddenly sprinting, running to the _Ebon Hawk_. Within minutes, he’d made his way up the loading ramp and into the med-bay, where he sealed the door shut behind him and collapsed onto the single cot, hot tears stinging his eyes. An array of emotions welled up inside him that he was too upset and bewildered to even attempt to hide from Bastila via their bond.

“Seth?” Mission’s voice called softly from outside the med-bay. For what seemed like the first time, he didn’t want to be anywhere near her.

“Not now, Mish!” he snapped. He would have felt bad for his reaction to her presence had he not been caught up in the storm of everything else he was feeling:

Betrayal, because his parents had left him behind to run off and fight in some Force-forsaken war. Despair, because the little hope he had that his parents still lived had been instantly dashed away. Loss, because of the way his childhood had been stripped away in a single moment; he’d never bounced on his father’s knee or hugged his mother goodnight, and he never would.

_Hate._

The emotion he’d always tried to keep under wraps now consumed him completely, and he clenched his fists in anger. Bastila may have been there for the death of Revan, but that failed to offer any comfort knowing that Malak, the second offender who’d taken _everything_ from him even before he’d learned to walk, was still out there. The man who had stripped him of his youth, his family, and even his brotherhood aboard the _Endar Spire_ was storming the galaxy, leaving behind him a wake of destruction and despair like that he’d caused for the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_. Seth clenched his jaw, seething. Not one more life would be destroyed by Malak as his had been. Not one more orphaned child like Mission had been. Not one more displaced traveler like Zaalbar was. Not one more father mourning his wife and son like Carth had.

Not. One. More.

The mission against Malak had just gotten personal.


End file.
